Slipping
by Infinity Blue
Summary: Post-RENT. Started Dec. 28th, 2004. There's something that Mimi isn't telling Roger. And her secret could lead to devastating consequences...COMPLETED
1. Losing Grip

Author's Note: Yes, I am aware that I now have three stories unfinished (four if you include 'Angel, Indeed,' which I'm not even sure is going to evolve into a longer story…but anyhoo. I know you all are going to hate me when you read the events in this story. It's not all kissy-kissy-happy-happy like some of my other stories. It's more intense. Hence the possible R-rating. (I'm going to have to debate with myself over that…) But you get the idea. So, here we go…review, please! Stay beautiful, all of you.

*This story is dedicated to my bitch, Mari, a.k.a Em0xstatic J*

***

Roger's eyes fluttered open at the sound of Mimi jiggling her keys into the lock.

"Hey, baby," he said sleepily, stretching out on the couch as she walked in.

"Hey," she said, giving him a weak smile. "You waited up for me?"

Roger grinned sheepishly.

"Sorry I'm late," Mimi said, kicking off her heels. "Terry made me work overtime at the club tonight. He says he'll pay me extra though, so it's worth it."

"Okay," Roger said, yawning. He slowly stood up and walked across the room and began to rub her shoulders.

"Thanks, babe," she murmured, closing her eyes.

"You know, it's just the two of us tonight," Roger whispered, pressing his lips against her neck. "Mark's going to be in Scarsdale with his folks this week."

Mimi said nothing.

"So…you want to…you know?" Roger asked, slowly.

"Not tonight, baby," Mimi said softly. "I'm really tired. Besides, isn't it like two in the morning?"

"Well, yeah…," Roger said, sheepishly. "Hey, Meems, is something bothering you?"

"No. I'm fine. Why?" she said, eyeing him suspiciously.

"It's nothing…you just don't seem yourself.

"I'm tired. I worked six hours straight," Mimi yawned, turning around to face him. "Besides. You kept me up last night," she said, smiling.

"I kept _you_ up," Roger repeated, shaking his head. "If I remember correctly…"

"Well, we _both_ kept each other up," she cut in, grinning sheepishly. "I'm going to get something out of the fridge. I haven't eaten anything since this morning."

Roger followed her into the kitchen.

"There's nothing in here," Mimi complained, rustling through the scarce contents of the icebox.

"We haven't gone shopping for groceries in weeks," Roger reminded her, placing his hands on her waist.

Mimi sighed. "Shit. We'll have to go shopping in the morning."

"It's no problem," Roger said, shrugging.

Mimi finally found a carton of vanilla yogurt, and peeled back the top and grabbed a plastic spoon from the top of the refrigerator.

"You sure that's not expired?" Roger asked her, before she shoved the spoon into her mouth.

Mimi paused, and examined the side of the carton. "Shit," she grumbled, tossing it into the wastebasket.

"We'll go for groceries tomorrow," Roger assured her, embracing her in a hug.

"Okay," Mimi said, smiling. She stood on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his lips. 

"Wanna hit the sack?" Roger asked, after kissing her back.

Mimi smiled. "I thought you'd never ask."

The two of them walked toward the bedroom, side by side. Mimi paused as they reached the bedroom door. "I'll come in in a minute," she said. "I'm just gonna brush my teeth and rinse my face off."

"Alright," Roger said in a groggy voice, disappearing into the bedroom.

Mimi went down the small narrow hall and turned into the bathroom, closing the door gently behind her.

She hovered over the sink and glared at her reflection in the mirror. Grabbing a maroon scrunchie from the sink counter, she wrapped her curly brunette hair in a messy bun and turned on the sink faucet, splashing cold water on to her face.

The cold water was soothing, and momentarily calmed her throbbing head.

She grabbed a towel from in back of her and patted her face dry.

"You coming, Meems?" Roger's voice echoed from the bedroom.

"Yes. I just need to use the toilet," Mimi shouted back. She walked over to the toilet, and sat on it with the lid closed, holding her head in her hands. She waited for what she figured was a reasonable amount of time, and flushed the toilet.

Slouching on the toilet seat, she rolled up the mesh-material of her sleeve to that it was just above her elbow. The spot on the back of her elbow had an ugly purplish tint, almost black. She touched it gingerly with her finger, and winced. The pain was familiar to her. Slide the needle underneath the skin, get a lovely multi-colored bruise the next day.

She'd started shooting up again not even a month ago, but already she was getting used to the feel of it; the light-headedness, the bruising.

She'd thought that she'd stopped for good. Ever since her near-death last year, everyone had thought that Mimi had learned her lesson.

That was until some of the usual men that lurked around the Cat Scratch Club started smuggling in needles. The other dancers passed them around backstage.

_"No thanks,"_ Mimi had said, handing it back to one of the other girls.

_"Oh, come on,"_ one of them had sneered. _"You know how it's done. I've seen you do it."_

_"I don't anymore,"_ Mimi had murmured, staring at the floor.

_"Bullshit," _the girl had retorted, rolling her eyes. _"Come ON. Just one time. Don't you miss it?"_

Mimi nervously looked at the other girls for consulting, but they were all either shrugging their shoulders at her, or had already turned away and were pretending to be absorbed in conversations with each other.

_"Alright,"_ Mimi had said slowly, hating herself for giving in so easily. _"Just once."_

One couldn't hurt.

But then one turned into several more over the course of the next couple of days. Then the days turned into weeks. The dancers would pass them around during break-time, or they had someone sneak one in from outside. Mimi was almost positive that Terry, their boss, knew what was going on. But he never brought it up. And so no one ever felt uneasy when taking part in it.

She was slipping.

Mimi sighed and rolled her sleeve back down, reaching into the medicine cabinet above her head for the bottle of aspirin. She cracked the top open and popped three pills into her mouth, swallowing them dry. She felt a tight feeling in her throat as they slid down her throat, one right after the other.

Her eyes watered as the pills left a bitter taste on her tongue. She hated lying to Roger. He had so much faith in her. He believed in her. And she was letting him down.

Mimi stood up and dug into the medicine box, slapping a band-aid onto the spot on her arm. Just in case Roger saw it, she would say she fell and scraped her arm at the club.

"Took you long enough," Roger teased as Mimi came into the bedroom.

"Must have ate something that didn't agree with me," she shrugged, pulling on a pair of his flannel boxer pants lying around on the floor.

"Ugh. I didn't need to know that," he groaned, tilting his head back against the headboard.

Mimi slid on an old CBGB's T-shirt, which was also Roger's. He never wore it anymore. Mimi had taken the liberty to cut off the sleeves. Silently, she slid under the covers next to him.

Roger rolled over on his side and wrapped his arms around her, pressing his lips against her bare shoulder. "Your hair smells good," Roger murmured, sleepily.

Mimi snorted. "I haven't showered in forever. God knows what you're smelling."

"Nonsense," Roger teased. "You're clean and pure."

Mimi let out a slow whoosh of air. If only he knew, she thought, sadly.

"You want me to turn out the light?" Roger asked her.

She nodded.

Roger reached over her and clicked off the lamp on the night table.

"Night, baby," he whispered, his voice muffled by her curly hair in his face.

"Goodnight," she said, softly.

Even though she had been ready to surrender immediately to sleep only a moment ago, now she found that she wasn't tired. She turned her head and gazed at the ceiling for what felt like an eternity. Soon, she heard the gentle sound of Roger snoring in her ear.

Mimi squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to sleep.

And then finally she faded, falling into the depths of sleep.

***

Author's Note: Yeah. Told you it's not a happy story. You all are going to kill me in these next few chapters. I should start writing my will. Reviews are almost as exciting as Daphne dying her hair blonde!


	2. Breaking the Surface

Mimi's eyes fluttered open late the next afternoon. Her vision was still blurry from sleep, and she rubbed her face with the back of her hand. There was a bit of drool by her mouth that had dried during the night. Mimi groaned and stretched.

She glanced out the window, and then looked at the alarm clock. Almost five-thirty pm…no, that wasn't right.

"Roger?" Mimi called, climbing out of bed. She walked down the hall, looking for him. "Babe? You here?"

"I'm here," Roger called, from the living room.

Mimi wandered into the room, where Roger was watching a football game on TV.

"Is the clock broken?" Mimi asked, still half asleep.

"Which one?"

"The alarm clock."

"No, it works just fine."

Mimi frowned. "It says it's five thirty at night."

Roger rolled up his sleeve and glanced at the brown leather watch around his wrist. "Yep, that's right."

"Why the fuck didn't you wake me up?" Mimi exclaimed. "I had to be at the club half an hour ago!"

Roger reached for the remote and turned off the TV. "You need a break," he said, simply. "I saw how you were last night. You were tired, and you were stressed. You said yourself you've been working extra time. Take a load off."

"We're not in high school, Rog," Mimi said, through gritted teeth. "I can't just _not go whenever I feel like it. It's my fucking JOB. Besides, Terry's raising my salary."_

Roger stood up and walked over to her.

"Mimi," he said, cupping her face gently with his hands, "You're more important to me than money."

Mimi sighed and leaned her forehead against his chest.

"You can take one day off," Roger said softly, rubbing his thumbs and circular motions around her temples.

"No, I can't," she murmured into his shirt.

"Yes you can," Roger whispered, slowly sliding his arms around her waist.

"I can't…Roger, I really can't!" Mimi exclaimed, pulling away from him. "I have a commitment to make."

"What? Dancing half-naked in front of strangers?" Roger groaned, plopping back down onto the couch.

"It pays," Mimi said, coldly. "Baby, we need the money."

Roger was silent.

"Roger?"

"Do what you want," he said, not looking at her.

She sighed tugged at her curls; a nervous habit. "Why do you always have to be so difficult?" she complained, walking over to the table by the couch and snatching the phone from its cradle. She quickly dialed the number of the club, and tapped her foot impatiently on the cold wooden floor.

"Hello? Yes- Terry, it's me. Mimi."

Roger looked up. He saw her wince and knew it was probably because her boss was yelling at her.

"Terry, look, I'm sorry. Roger didn't wake me up in time," Mimi said into the phone, exasperated. "I know you…yes. I'll work extra hours tonight."

"What?!" Roger exclaimed.

Mimi ignored him.

"Mimi, seriously, you need a break from that place," Roger said, shaking his head. Impatiently, he tugged at the phone cord gently. Mimi gestured for him to leave her alone.

"Alright, then. I'll be there in twenty minutes. I'll see you then." Mimi hung up the phone.

"Mimi," Roger groaned, "Why are you doing this to yourself?"

"I'm doing this for _us_," Mimi said, in a tired voice. "We both benefit."

"It's no benefit to you if you're tired, and stressed out," Roger said, quietly.

Mimi shrugged. "I'll deal, Roger. Besides, it's my responsibility. I told Terry I'd work today, and that's what I'm going to do. I need to get dressed," she said suddenly, turning and heading towards the bedroom.

"You're going to become an insomniac," Roger said, following her into the bedroom.

Mimi snorted and pulled a tight black tank top over her head. "I'll take sleeping pills," she joked, pulling on a pair of gray tights with a run in the knee.

"I'm not joking," Roger said, as she stepped into a cutoff pair of jean shorts. 

Mimi shoved her feet into the nearest pair of high heels, rushed over to the mirror above the dresser, and began to quickly put on her makeup.

"Roger, would you help me with this?" she asked, handing him one of two gold hoop earrings.

"You're going to regret it," he began again, as he struggled to fit the earring through the hole in her left earlobe. "You're going to…"

"OW!" Mimi yelped. Giving him a dirty look, she retrieved her earring, and put it on herself. She then quickly tied her hair into a loose bun.

"Roger," she said slowly, placing her hands on his shoulders. "I'm going to work. I'll be back a little after midnight. _Okay_?"

Roger let out a huge whoosh of air and sank down to the floor. "You win," he groaned.

"Thanks, baby," Mimi said, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Don't wait up, okay?"

Roger looked at her and crossed his eyes.

"I'm gonna take that as a yes," Mimi said. "I'll see you later tonight. Bye!"

Roger watched her go out the door, and stayed put on the floor until he heard the front door open and close.

***

"Oh, God, that was nuts," laughed Forest, one of the dancers as she scrambled behind the curtain, where a few of the other performers, including Mimi lay, sprawled on the couch.

It was a quarter after midnight. Mimi could barely keep her eyes open.

"Wake up you guys- it's morning!" Forest exclaimed, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder.

"How the fuck are you so _awake?" asked Roxy, from next to Mimi. Roxy wasn't even her real name. She'd ditched Marilyn and chosen Roxy once she'd gotten the gig at the club._

"It must be that new stuff she's smoking," Roxy's boyfriend teased, causing the others to laugh.

"Shut up, Kyle. You're not even supposed to be back here."

Kyle blinked. "So. Bite me."

"Yeah, Forest, lay off my man," Roxy whined, dabbing at her smeared eye makeup with a tissue.

Forest snorted and crouched down on an old crate. "Hey, guys," she said carefully, looking around her. "Boss ain't here right now…you want to?"

"Are you suggesting we take part in illegal crimes?" Kyle said, pretending to be shocked.

"Why not? Terry's up front macking it up with the ladies. He won't be back 'til next Christmas. Kiesha, do you still have some stuff saved?"

"Shit girl, I was saving that for myself," Kiesha complained.

"Aw, come on," Roxy pleaded. 

"No chance. Jose gave them to me a couple of days ago."

"That's probably not all he gave her," Kyle grinned.

"Ha! Shows what you know. He's gay," Kiesha retorted.

Kyle shrugged and draped his arm over Roxy's shoulder.

"Wait- I got an idea. I may have one or two extra sharpies in my locker."

"Shit no! We're not gonna sit back here sniffing markers!" Kyle exclaimed.

"Sharpies as in NEEDLES, dumbass."

"Well, what are you waiting for? Go get them, girl!" Forest commanded, shooing her away.

Kiesha disappeared, and returned a moment later with two hypodermic needles in her hand.

"Give it here," Forest said, tugging it away from her. "I'll do it first." She rolled up her sleeve and jabbed the needle into her arm.

"Me next," Roxy said impatiently, reaching out for it.

Some of the other dancers had wandered over to see what the commotion was about.

"Here, Mimi. Your turn," Kiesha said, as Kyle handed the needle back to her.

"I really shouldn't," Mimi said, nervously, "I promised my boyfriend…"

"Promised your boyfriend!" Kyle snorted.

"Yes, I promised my boyfriend," Mimi snapped. "I promised him that I'm done with this shit."

"Oh, please. I saw you doing it the other day," Forest said.

Mimi said nothing.

"Come on, don't make us force you," Roxy said, raising her eyebrows.

"Fuck you, Roxy," Mimi snarled. "I'll pass on it."

"Aw, come on. Just hold her down and do it yourselves," Kyle said.

"You wouldn't," Kiesha said, turning her head.

"Sure I would. She's tiny. I could hold her down."

Mimi rolled her eyes and started to stand up. Suddenly, Kyle's hand shot out and grasped around her arm tightly, pulling up her sleeve with the other.

"Here, I'll do it for you," he grinned.

"_Get off me!_" Mimi screamed at him, kicking out.

"Christ, she's feisty. Give it here, Kiesha."

Kiesha looked hesitant, as Mimi tried to squirm out from under Kyle, but then decided against it and handed it to him.

"Don't you DARE," Mimi warned him.

"Hold tight, babe, this won't hurt a bit."

"Stop!" she shouted, as she felt the tight pinch of the needle as it broke the skin.

Finally, she was able to break away from him, yanking the needle out of her arm and throwing it at Kiesha's feet.

Kyle grinned, triumphantly. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" he asked, wickedly.

His grin faded when Mimi's hand rose up to slap him across the face.

"_Bastard_," she spat.

"What the fuck is going on in here?" Terry demanded, as he entered the backstage area. "What the hell are you guys doing?!" he exclaimed, when he saw the needle on the floor. "I KNEW you guys were doing something behind my back. Who the fuck brought this in here?"

No one said anything.

"Goddamnnit," he growled, clenching his fists. "You guys are going to have this club shut down _and have me arrested. Fefe, clean that up. The rest of you, just get the hell out of here. I'll lock up."_

The dancers began to clear out from backstage.

Kyle, who was still nursing his bruised cheek, glared up at Mimi.

"_Pinche_," she hissed, rubbing the spot on her arm where the needle had entered her skin. With that, she turned and quickly rushed out the door, slamming it behind her.

Everyone was quiet for a moment.

"I don't want to know," Terry said, shaking his head as he bent down to throw away the needle.

***

Roger heard the front door open and slam shut from his bed. He heard Mimi's heels clacking furiously on the ground. He then heard the sound of her turning into the bathroom, turning on the sink to wash her face, and the toilet flushing. Living with her for over a year now, Roger already knew Mimi's route when she came home from the club.

"Bad night?" he asked, as she stormed into the bedroom, throwing the covers aside as she got into the bed.

"The people I work with are assholes," she growled, turning off the bedside lamp.

"What happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

Roger was about to open his mouth again, but then stopped. He sighed. "See you in the morning?"

No answer.

Roger sighed again. "Goodnight, Mimi."

"Goodnight, babe. Love you."

Roger was oddly comforted by this, and a small smile came across his face as he shut his eyes, allowing sleep to overcome him.

***

Review!


	3. Suspicion

Mimi slowly opened her eyes the next morning to find Roger's arm draped around her waist, wide awake. He had been watching her sleep.

Mimi yawned and smiled. "Hi, baby."

"Hey," he said gently, poking her in the side. "You feeling better?"

"Huh?"

"You seemed pretty upset last night."

"Oh. It was nothing…I got into a fight with Terry over…my salary."

Roger frowned. "I thought you had sorted it all out with him."

Mimi shrugged. "Nothing's ever final with Terry."

Roger raised his eyebrows, but said nothing more. "Are you sure everything's okay?"

"Yes!" she said again, annoyed. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know," Roger said. "I just feel like there's something you're not telling me," he said softly, stroking my hair.

Mimi kissed him gently. "There's nothing, baby."

_Liar_, she said to herself.

She hated lying to Roger. It nearly tore her apart to see him look at me like that…so trusting…so believing. If he only knew.

Roger stretched and rolled out of the bed. "You want me to make us some breakfast or something?"

Mimi raised my eyebrows at him. "Since when can you cook?"

"Since now," he shrugged.

She laughed. "Okay, Emeril. What's on the menu today?"

"I don't know…we have frozen waffles on the fridge…they haven't been in there _too_ long…and we have bacon. I can fry bacon on the stove. And uh…orange juice!"

Mimi smiled, admiring his effort to please her. "I'm not very hungry?"

"You're not?" he looked disappointed.

"Well…I guess I'll have a waffle," she said, although truthfully she would have much rather pulled the covers back over her head and gone back to sleep.

"Okay!" he said, satisfied. "Give me ten minutes?"

Mimi yawned. "No problem."

He grinned. "Okay. It'll be ready in a little while."

"Alright," she said, sleepily.

Roger kissed her on the cheek and quietly left the room.

Mimi lay her head back down on her pillow, and closed her eyes.

***

Mimi opened her eyes again, startled to realize she had fallen asleep. 

She pushed the covers away from her and looked at the night-table beside her. On it was a plastic plate with a waffle lying on top of it. Syrup and all.

Smiling, Mimi saw that Roger had left a little note next to the plate.

_Meems__,_

_I left this out for you because I _

_didn't__ want you to go hungry._

_Hopefully by the time you wake _

_up__ and read this note it won't_

_have__ gone TOO cold…I didn't _

_want__ to wake you, so I took the _

_fender__ and went to __Central Park___

_just__ to relax, maybe write some_

_new__ stuff. Eat up- those waffles_

_were__ toasted with love._

_Love, Roger_

Mimi shook her head, smiling to herself. He was so corny. She loved him for it.

She picked up the plastic fork that Roger had left nestled on the plate, and dug into her waffles.

***

"Hello?" Roger called, as he stepped back into the Loft an hour later, his guitar tucked under his arm.

"I'm in here!" Mimi called from the bathroom. She had her bare leg up against the side of the bathtub, and had smothered her calf in pink liquid.

"What the hell is that smell?" Roger asked as he walked into the bathroom. Mimi had left the door open for him.

"It's cranberries," Mimi replied, working it into a lather around her ankles.

Roger made a face. "Doesn't smell like cranberries. What the hell are you doing?"

"Shaving," Mimi answered, as she dragged the pink plastic razor down the side of her leg.

Roger stared at her, not saying anything.

Mimi paused and looked up at him. "I can't do this with you staring at me like that."

"Sorry," Roger said, quickly.

Mimi shook her head. "It's okay. Could you hand me that towel, over there?"

Roger handed her the towel.

"Thanks," Mimi said, placing the towel underneath her knee. "How was your walk?"

"Pretty good. I didn't really get to write much down. Some nutty clothing vendor started chasing me around the benches, so finally I just decided to give it up and leave.

"I don't blame you," Mimi said, as she scraped the razor around her ankles.

Roger winced, hearing the sound of the blade rubbing against her skin. "You're not mad at me for leaving, are you?" he asked.

"Why would I be mad?"

"I don't know…just the fact that I didn't tell you before I left."

Mimi smiled, primly. "I don't really think that would have been possible. I was out like a light."

Roger snickered.

"What?"

"Out like a light?" he mocked, grinning at her.

"What? You've never heard of similes?"

"I've heard of similes. That was just a really bad one."

"Fuck you," she flicking a splash of water his way.

Roger moved to the side quickly, and the droplets of water plopped onto the bathroom floor. Roger reached out with his shoe and wiped it against the carpet.

"Fuck!" he heard Mimi say.

He turned. "What?"

"I nicked myself," she said, putting the razor down by the side of the tub. "Shit, these things _do_ sting," she groaned.

"Oh, hey, hold on a sec," Roger said, turning to the drawer underneath the sink. "One moment…here it is," he declared, pulling out a canister of old band-aids decorated with old Disney characters. "You get your pick. Mickey Mouse or Snow White."

Mimi smiled. "I'll take Mickey."

"You want me to put it on for you?" Roger offered.

"Nah, I can do it," Mimi said, reaching forward for the band-aid. As she reached forward with her arm, her sleeve rode up so it was up above her elbow, revealing what were obvious bruises.

"What are those?" Roger asked, frowning.

"They're…nothing…"

"Did you hurt yourself?" he asked, puzzled.

"No, I…I fell. I tripped over an old crate backstage during a costume change. I fell on my arm."

Roger still looked unconvinced. "Even so…" he was quiet for a moment.

Mimi shrugged limply and looked at the floor. "I'm just a big klutz," she said, refusing to look him in the eye.

"You know what those look like…" Roger said, frowning.

"What?" Mimi asked nervously.

"They look just like track marks," Roger said, quietly.

They were both silent for a moment.

Without thinking, Mimi decided to get defensive with Roger, even though she knew he was right. "What are you saying?" she snapped.

"Nothing…it's just…"

"You think I can't take care of myself? That I can't take responsibility?"

"I didn't say that…I just…"

"Forget it," Mimi growled, standing to her feet. Of course, she knew that she was lying to him. But the fact that Roger didn't seem to trust her anyway was hurtful. "I'm going to go to work early tonight."

"Mimi, I don't think you should tonight," Roger cut in, grabbing her arm.

Mimi gave him a fiery look. If looks could kill, Roger would have been six feet under right then. "I'm going," she said, coldly, wrenching her arm out of his grasp.

Roger stood in silence, dumbfounded as Mimi gathered up her clothes and pulled on her black leather boots.

"Bye," she said curtly as she rushed passed him and out the door.

The sound of the door slamming was almost as cold as the tone of Mimi's voice.

Roger chewed his lower lip nervously, trying to piece together what had just happened.

_It was your own fault_, he scolded himself. _You shouldn't have mentioned it. Mimi's done with that stuff-she's clean now._

And now she was mad at him.

Roger sighed and glanced at his watch. Mimi had left early. So generally she would be out later than usual.

_Idiot_, Roger told himself again, shaking his head. He kicked at the wall stubbornly and sat on the couch, holding his head in his hands.

***

Author's Note: You think _that_ was bad? Just wait until next chapter…you guys are going to all hate me. It's all good though. I've got my bitches for support. (A.K.A wifey 1 and wifey 2.)


	4. Broken

"Mimi, you missed your cue," Roxy hissed at her as they disapeared backstage.

"Sorry," Mimi mumbled. "I can't really think straight right now."

"Guy trouble?" Roxy guessed, whipping out a compact mirror and fixing her hair.

"Yeah," Mimi said.

Roxy snapped the mirror shut. "Don't worry. Guys are like the weather. They have fluctuating moods. By tomorrow, whatever happened today will be forgotten. Trust me on this. I know from experience."

"Alright," Mimi sighed, though she wasn't convinced.

"The guys just keep getting _crazier_ out there," Roxy commented. "Grabbing my tits here, groping my ass there. It's like a frickin petting zoo. We should charge them to feel us up," Roxy laughed.

Mimi smiled weakly, but didn't laugh.

"Well. They're not _all_ bad," Roxy shrugged, pulling a piece of paper out of the waistband of her sparkly gold shirt. "I did get _one_ guy's number."

"I thought you were going out with Kyle," Mimi said.

Roxy shrugged. "Kyle's a dick. I've been thinking of breaking up with him anyway."

Mimi said nothing.

"I'm sorry about what happened last night," Roxy said softly. "He just doesn't know when to stop sometimes. I should have stopped him."

"It's not your fault," Mimi said, faintly.

"Hey, yeah. You know guys. Can't live with them, can't live without 'em," Roxy mocked. "And another thing- someone's gotta talk to Terry about giving us a new routine. I must have done that same pole-dance sequence at least a hundred fucking times already."

"Yeah," Mimi said, not listening.

"You sure you're okay?" Roxy asked, as Mimi walked over to the couch and spread out so her legs were dangling off the side.

"Yeah. I'm just tired. I didn't get that much sleep last night," Mimi yawned.

"You should take a day off. You look like you could use some beauty sleep."

Mimi shrugged. "I need the money."

Roxy clicked her tongue and her cellular phone began to ring. Quickly, she rushed over to the other side of the room and flipped it open, holding it up to her ear. "Roxy here." She paused. "Who the fuck is this? You that guy up front who was grabbing my ass?"

Mimi rolled over and watched Roxy converse with her uknown caller.

"Roger? _Who_?"

"What the _fuck_," Mimi groaned, standing up. "It's my boyfriend."

"Your boyfriend? How did you get this number?" she said into the phone. "Outside sources? Outside sources, my ass. I'll…"

"Rox, can I have the phone?" Mimi asked, holding her hand out impatiently.

Roxy rolled her eyes and handed her the phone. "Be quick. It's running low."

Mimi nodded and held the phone against her ear. "Roger?" she said.

"Meems, I'm sorry about what I said before…I can't believe I even brought that up. I know you're finished with all that stuff. I guess I just can't help but live in the past…I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Mimi said, feeling sick to her stomach.

"I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am, and I regret ever saying that. Will you forgive me?"

"Yes," Mimi said in a small voice, feeling her insides twist with guilt.

"Good. You want me to come down there when you're done with work to pick you up?"

"I uh,…no. I don't think that's such a good idea. Terry doesn't like us bringing other people backstage," Mimi said, searching for an excuse.

"I won't go backstage then. I'll meet you at the backstage door. Okay?"

Mimi tugged at a strand of curly hair, anxiously. "I guess so," she said.

"Great. What time do you want me to meet you there?"

"Um…about an hour, I guess."

"Okay. Don't dawdle," Roger teased.

Mimi smiled. "I won't."

Roxy was waving her arms at Mimi, signaling for her to get off the phone.

"Rog, I gotta go. Roxy's going to kill me in one second," Mimi said, quickly.

"Okay, baby. I love you."

"I love you too," Mimi couldn't help but smile.

Roxy made an exaggerated groan.

"Bye." Mimi closed the phone and handed it to Roxy.

"Jeez, you just take your sweet old time, don't you," Roxy commented, clipping the phone to the waistband of her skirt.

"Sorry," Mimi apologized. "My boyfriend's been sort of…overprotective, lately."

"How so? Doesn't let you cross the street by yourself?"

"Not exactly," Mimi grinned.

"You can't let a man control you. You've gotta be clear with them. They're like dogs. Once they get used to you commanding them, they'll listen to your every order," Roxy grinned.

Mimi laughed and shook her head.

Roxy glanced at the silver watch dangling loosely around her wrist. "Shit. We've gotta be back in four minutes."

Mimi groaned. "Alright."

Roxy grabbed a feather boa from behind the couch. "Hey, what do you think they'd think of this? Pretty nifty, huh?"

Mimi rolled her eyes. "Whatever floats your boat."

"I think it's sexy," Roxy declared, draping it over her shoulders.

"Girls, you're on in five!" Terry hissed from up front.

Roxy straightened her skirt and forced a smile at Mimi. "Well. Here we go again," she said.

***

"Jesus Christ, thank GOD it's midnight," Roxy groaned, as she and Mimi went into the locker room. 

"I hear you," Mimi said, wiping sweat from her forehead. "They really need to dim those fucking lights. I feel like a turkey in an oven."

"Mmm. Turkey sounds good now. Hell, anything sounds good. I've been fasting the last two days."

"Religious?" Mimi asked.

"Nah. I need to lose some weight."

"No you don't," Mimi sighed.

"Easy for you to say. You're not one of those people who eat and actually gain weight."

Mimi shrugged and pulled on the pair of denim cutoff shorts she'd been sporting for the last few days over her ripped fishnet tights.

"They need an AC installed in here or _something_," Roxy whined, lacing up her boots.

"I think Terry uninstalled it on purpose," Mimi said, pulling her black tank-top over her head.

"Why? To make us suffer?" Roxy groaned.

"He probably thinks it vents a sexual atmosphere," Mimi said, rolling her eyes.

"God. Fucking perv," Roxy said, shaking her head. "I really need to get a job as a waitress or something."

"Sounds good to me," Mimi laughed, grabbing her coat.

"In fact, once I get enough money, I think I'm gonna quit working here. It's time somebody treated me with respect. Fuck Terry."

"Amen," Mimi said, raising an imaginary glass of wine.

"And I think that's exactly what I'll say to him when I do," Roxy declared. "I'll walk right up to him and say, 'Fuck you, Terry. I quit.'"

"Sounds good to me," Mimi said.

"You should quit too. We'd be the rebels. Partners in crime," Roxy grinned.

"I know I should. It's tough, though. I've worked here for almost five years," Mimi said.

"Christ," Roxy shook her head. "Don't know how you've been able to tolerate it for so long."

Mimi shrugged. "Desperate times call for desperate measures."

"Don't I know it," Roxy said, as she picked up her purse. "Well, I've gotta be going. Big day of being felt up by strangers tomorrow," she said, sarcastically. "You coming?"

"I told Roger I'd meet him by the backstage door," Mimi said.

Roxy shrugged her shoulders. "Okay. See you tomorrow."

"Bye," Mimi called after her. She slid her purse over her shoulder, and headed for the heavy steel backstage door.

Mimi leaned against it, shoving her way outside. The door led to a brick-walled alley, that opened up onto the street.

Mimi adjusted her coat and steadily began to walk down the alley.

"Hello?" a gruff voice said.

Mimi jumped. "Roger?" she called, uncertainly. 

"Roxy? That you?" the figure stepped out of the shadows. It was Kyle.

Mimi folded her arms underneath her chest. "Roxy used the front entrance."

"Bitch," Kyle growled. "I told her I would meet her out here."

_I don't blame her for avoiding you_, Mimi thought, but said nothing. She quickly started to walk past him.

"Hey. You wanna share?" he asked, producing a small doggy-bag filled with white powder.

"No thanks," Mimi said, coldly.

"Aw, come on. I promise I wont force it on you this time," Kyle grinned.

"No," Mimi repeated, and proceeded to quickly pass him.

"You know," Kyle said, holding onto her elbow and holding her back. "I like you. A lot."

"I'm flattered," Mimi said sarcastically, pulling her arm away from him. "But I have a boyfriend."

"Since when does that matter?" Kyle laughed.

Mimi rolled her eyes. "Goodnight, Kyle," she said, flatly.

She only proceeded to walk a couple more steps before she felt Kyle's arms wrapped tightly around her waist.

"What the fuck!?" she growled, trying to wrench away from him.

"I really do like you," he whispered, kissing her neck.

"Get the fuck off me!" she shouted, trying to hit him with her purse.

She felt the warm bitter taste of Kyle's hand over her mouth. "Don't try to fight it," he whispered into her ear.

Mimi screamed, but the sound was muffled by the flesh of his fingers. She kicked at him and hit him over the head with his purse. Kyle easily pulled the purse out of her hand and let it drop to the floor, spilling its contents onto the concrete.

 Kyle shoved Mimi onto the floor. Her head knocked against the hard concrete, momentarily blurring her vision, and her elbows began to sting, and she thought unconsciously that she must have scraped them when she fell. The right side of her face was beginning to hurt as well. 

Weakly, she struggled to stand up, but Kyle pushed her back down with his knee, digging it into her chest.

"Please, stop," she gasped, struggling for air.

Kyle said nothing, but kissed her on the lips, pinning both of her arms under her.

Mimi panted, heavily. She struggled to sit back up, but she felt frozen. She had never been this terrified in her life.

She did the first thing that entered her head. She bit down on his lower lip, wincing at the bitter taste of his blood in her mouth.

"_JESUS CHRIST!_" Kyle shouted, putting his hand up to his mouth. His fists clenched when he saw the blood on the tips of his fingers.

"_Bitch_," he hissed, his fist connecting with her jaw. 

Mimi's head began to throb, and she feared that she was going to pass out.

Taking advantage of her weak state, Kyle gently began to unbutton her shorts.

"Please," Mimi whimpered, tears running down her face, "Don't."

Kyle ignored her and Mimi heard him unzip his fly.

"Just let it happen," he whispered into her ear.

She cried out as she felt him enter her, and Kyle pressed his fist against her mouth, muffling her cries.

"Don't make this harder than it has to be," he growled.

Tears rolled down Mimi's face, and she turned her head so that her cheek was lying against the cool concrete. A tube of lipstick from her bag had rolled so it was right in her view of eyesight. Mimi bit her lip and stared at the tube of lipstick, trying to think of something else as Kyle pounded into her. She closed her eyes shut and prayed for him to finish.

After what seemed like an eternity, Kyle got up and buttoned up his pants.

Mimi breathed heavily, crying and keeping her gaze fixated on the lipstick.  
  


She saw Kyle drop something down in front of her. A piece of paper.

"See you around," Kyle said gruffly, and left.

Mimi reached out for the piece of paper that Kyle had dropped at her feet and brought it towards her. 

It was a dollar bill.

Mimi crumpled the bill up and threw it as far as she could, and began to sob.

***

Roger scuffled his worn sneakers against the pavement as he walked to meet Mimi.

_Christ_, he thought, _how does she stand working this late_?

He turned the corner and headed down the alley.

He stopped when he heard the sound of someone crying.

"Hello?" he called out, cautiously.

He stepped forward, looking for the source of the noise. Maybe someone had been mugged.

He came across what looked like makeup products scattered across the ground. He knelt down and picked up a silver charm bracelet from the clutter. A heart charm with the words 'R.D + M.M' engraved on it. His heart stopped. It was Mimi's.

"Mimi!" he yelled, beginning to run, praying she was alright. The crying sound was closer.

Roger panted, coming to a pause. He saw Mimi, huddled up against the wall. Her knees were pulled in towards her chest, and her body was shaking.

"Mimi," Roger walked towards her, feeling sick to his stomach. He knelt down beside her and gently turned her head so he could get a look at her. "No…" he murmured, shaking his head. There was a swelling at her jaw-line, and she had a split lip. It looked like she had a couple of scrapes on her cheek too.

"No," he repeated softly, gazing at Mimi's tearstained face. He lowered his gaze and saw that her shorts were ripped, the zipper and buttons disheveled.

Roger fought back tears as he realized what must have happened.

"Mimi," he whispered. "Who was he?"

Mimi didn't answer him, and instead began to sob louder, burying her face into her knees.

Roger gently pulled him against her and she cried into his shoulder. He wiped at his eye with the back of his sleeve.

Uneasily, Roger gathered Mimi's belongings into her purse, and helped her stand to her feet. Her knees trembled.

Roger brought one arm under her knees and lifted her up off the ground, placing her arms around his neck.

"Where are we going?" Mimi croaked.

"To the hospital," Roger said, in a hoarse voice. He felt Mimi shudder against him.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, pressing his lips gently against her bruised cheek. "I should have been here."

"Not…your fault," she murmured, faintly.

Roger wrapped his arms securely around her and quickly rushed out of the alley, and walked out onto the sidewalk to hail a cab.

***

Author's Note: I warned you. Let the crucifying begin. This is the downside of fanfiction, as Mari(em0xstatic) and I have learned. It's like playing with matches. It _does_ become happier, though. Honestly. Don't hate me L


	5. Blurred Vision

Author's Note: It was very hard for me to write this chapter. Even more than the last one. Not only because of the situation, but because the song featured in this chapter kept playing in my head over and over again…*sniff* I'm not a bad person, really.

Roger ran quickly down the street, which was hard to do while her arms were limply wrapped around his neck, and his other arms were under her knees, to support her. He felt her small body shudder against him.

It had begun to rain. A bright yellow taxi cab sailed past them on the sidewalk, ignoring Roger's upright thumb, sending a small splash of rainwater at their feet.

"_Motherfucker_," Roger swore, through gritted teeth. He slowed down to the point where he was running quickly down the street, being careful not to slip in the pools of collecting rainwater dribbling down the sidewalk.

He spotted a man a few feet away holding a briefcase, about to enter the cab that had so easily ignored Roger and fled past them.

"Wait!" Roger yelled, running towards them. The man looked up, giving him an odd look.

"Please," Roger panted, "Can I please take this one?"

The man snorted. "Look, buddy, I have a flight I have to make for a business trip and I…"

"_Please_," Roger pleaded with him, lowering Mimi gentle to her feet, and holding onto her upper arms to help her steady her balance. "My girlfriend's hurt."

"Jesus," the man said under his breath, looking at Mimi. "Alright…I guess I can grab another one." He stepped away from the curb, motioning for them to go inside with his hands. "All yours."

"Thank you," Roger said, almost whispering as he nudged Mimi carefully into the backseat of the vehicle, crawling in beside her.

"Make sure she gets checked out," the man said, with a concerned look furrowing his eyebrows.

"I am," Roger assured him, as he slammed the door shut. "Thanks."

"Where to?" the driver asked Roger.

"The hospital."

"Which one?" the driver asked, impatiently.

"I don't know," Roger's thoughts clambered together, and he was unable to think straight. "The nearest one from here. And hurry, please." He was trying not to sound too panicked. After all, what was there to be panicked about? His girlfriend had only been raped all because he was late to pick her up.

"Stupid fuck," he said through gritted teeth, pounding his fist into the seat in front of him.

"_Excuse me_?"

"Nothing…I'm just…talking to myself. Please, hurry."

"Bueno," the driver replied, stepping onto the pedal.

Spanish. Roger chuckled to himself. Unconsciously, he glanced at the driver's license posted in front of him. Jose Moreno. Five foot two. Brown hair, brown eyes. Jose. The name was Spanish. In any other situation, Mimi would probably have been talking up a storm in fluent Spanish with this Jose. She was good with people. Socially. Roger's eyes wandered down to his lap, where Mimi's head was resting, her eyes closed.

_And now look what's happened_, Roger screamed at himself. _You never should have let her leave the Loft. You knew something wasn't right. But you let her. And now…now…_

Roger turned away and swiped at his eye with the back of his hand, feeling embarrassed for crying in front of Mimi, even though her eyes were closed, and her head was turned the other way.

He stared at the rain drizzling down the glass window. Like little fat liquid worms. Or caterpillars. When he was a kid, he and Mark used to joke and say that the droplets of rain slowly seeping its way to the ground looked like sperm. They'd thought it was hilarious at the time. Roger smiled slightly, though he did not find it funny at all now.

He squinted out the window, trying to figure out what street they were on, and how close they were to the hospital. But the rain was so heavy that it blurred his vision, becoming a smear of multi-colored liquid sliding down the glass. Like worms, he thought to himself, humorlessly. Or tears.

_All around me are familiar faces_

_Worn out places, worn out faces_

_Bright and early for the daily races_

_Going nowhere, going nowhere,_

_Their tears are filling up their glasses_

_No expression, no expression_

_Hide my head, I want to drown my sorrow, _

_No tomorrow, no tomorrow_

Roger ran his hand gently through Mimi's damp curls, and brushed his finger against her bruised cheek, which felt rough from dried tears and rainwater.

_And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad_

_The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had_

_I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take_

_But when people run in circles it's a very, very_

_Mad world_

_Mad world_

"We are here," the driver announced, stopping in front of a building. Roger couldn't even make out the name plastered on the sign out front. His vision was watery. Sluggish.

"You gonna pay?" the driver asked, quietly.

Roger snapped back to reality. He reached into his back pocket for his wallet, plucked out a couple of bills at random, and flung it blindly towards the taxi driver.

"Oh…this too much," the driver said, shaking his head.

"Keep it," Roger told him. He reached for Mimi's hand. 

"Meems?" he asked, gently.

She didn't answer him. She didn't look at him. Her eyes were open, but she stared ahead into space, gazing at something beyond Roger's ability to see. Beyond the rain that was now flooding the streets.

He gripped her arm tightly and hurried with her into the hospital entrance.

"My girlfriend's hurt!" he burst out as he shoved into the waiting room.

The receptionist looked up from her desk and stared at him blankly.

"Didn't you hear me?" Roger exclaimed, impatiently, "My girlfriend…"

"Hon, take a number," the receptionist said, jerking to several people waiting in the cold metal chairs.

Roger gently pulled Mimi over to the front desk. "Please," he whispered. "Can you help me?"

The receptionist frowned as she stared at Mimi. "What happened?"

Roger mumbled something under his breath.

"What?"

"She was _raped_," Roger hissed, finally able to say the word aloud.

The woman behind the desk chewed her lower lip. "Oh dear," she said, softly. She picked up the clipboard that was resting facedown on her desk, and glanced at it momentarily. "I'll see if we can bump you guys up. Compared to weekdays, we have a lot less injured people today." She looked up at the people who were waiting to be treated, who were all staring at Roger and Mimi, trying not to be too obvious about it.

"Mr. Patterson?"

"Yes?" answered a man, who was holding his wrist limply in his hand.

"Do you think we could bump you back a bit? This young lady's banged up quite a bit."

Roger winced at the words 'Banged up.'

"Aw, miss, my wrist fucking _hurts_," the man complained.

Roger turned and gave him a pleading glance.

"Well…fine," the man groaned, once he's seen the condition Mimi was in. "Just hurry it up. Or get me some damn painkillers or _something_."

Roger thanked him and gave the receptionist both his and Mimi's names, and then guided her over to two empty chairs next to each other. He put his arm around her protectively as they settled into their seats. Mimi rested her cheek against his shoulder, and was silent.

Roger worried that she was angry with him. Angry at him for not being there for her. For not being able to protect her.

He squeezed her hand reassuringly, trying to provoke a smile, a frown, _something._

Mimi's stony expression remained.

_Children waiting for the day they feel good,_

_Happy birthday, happy birthday_

_And they feel the way that every child should_

_Sit and listen, sit and listen_

_Went to school and I was very nervous_

_No one knew me, no one knew me_

_Hello teacher, tell me what's my lesson_

_Look right through me, look right through me_

After what felt like an eternity, the receptionist called out, "Mr. Davis?"

"Finally," Roger grumbled, helping Mimi to her feet. He could feel the eyes of strangers glued to the two of them as they made their way over to the door.

"Follow me," a nurse said to them, with a prim smile. 

His arm still around Mimi, Roger glanced uneasily at the people in wheelchairs, hooked up to respirators, and people being carried in on stretchers. He'd always hated hospitals.

"Miss Marquez, from what I understand, you were raped?"

She said the word _raped_ flatly, with little emotion and sympathy.

"Yes" Roger said, when Mimi didn't answer.

The nurse frowned. "We'll have to call an official in here so you can file a report."

Roger blinked.

"A _police officer_."

"I know," Roger said, snappishly.

Finally, they stopped in front of a door, marked 12B.

Roger started to walk in, when the nurse held out an arm to block him. "Mister Davis, I think your girlfriend would be a bit more comfortable if you stayed outside during this procedure," the nurse said, quietly.

"What procedure?" Roger asked, confused.

The nurse glanced at Mimi, and then said to Roger under her breath, "If she was raped, as you claim, then we have to do a procedure technically referred to as the 'Rape Kit.' It's generally used to find evidence that the event occurred, and of whom the attacker might be."

"How?" Roger asked, bewildered.

"Skin under the fingernails. Stains. Hair on clothes. Traces of semen."

"Okay, I get it," Roger said quickly, feeling nauseated. 

The nurse gave him an understanding smile. "You can go into the waiting room. We'll call you back in when you're needed." Without waiting for him to reply, she closed the door abruptly, leaving him alone in the empty hallway.

Roger stared at the closed door for a moment, and then trudged back to the waiting room, shoving his hands into his pockets.

_And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad_

_The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had_

_I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take_

_But when people run in circles it's a very, very_

_Mad world_

_Mad world_

Author's Note: It WILL get better. Review. Pretty please?


	6. Heartsick

"Mister Davis?"

Roger jolted awake, feeling a nurse's shoulder on his arm.

"Mister Davis, Doctor Moore would like to see you know."

Roger rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand.

As his vision began to get less blurry, and his head cleared up, he suddenly remembered why he was at the hospital, and he stood to his feet, uneasily.

"This way, please," the nurse said, and once again Roger was led into the hallway, outside the room Mimi was in.

The nurse knocked on the door and opened it a crack. "Doctor Moore?" she called, quietly.

A young woman came out with short wispy blonde hair, and a pair of wire-framed glasses perched on the bridge of her nose.

"Hello, Mister Davis," she smiled briefly, holding out her hand. "I'm Doctor Moore."

Roger returned the gesture and shook her hand. "How is she?" he asked, softly.

Dr. Moore folded her hands together. "We have her heavily sedated," she said. "And she's sleeping now. She was in a lot of pain."

"So…she _was_ raped," Roger said. He was hoping that out of some miracle it was would turn out that something else had happened, which would explain  the state that he had found Mimi in. Anything would be better…

"Yes," Dr. Moore said quietly, "She was. We found traces of semen and tearing…she's been given seven stitches."

Roger swallowed and nodded. "Did she say who did this to her?"

Dr. Moore shook her head. "She was very quiet throughout the whole procedure."

"That's not like her," Roger said, nervously.

"Mister Davis…"

"Call me Roger," he said quickly.

"Roger…your girlfriend has been through a very traumatic experience. It may take a while for her to return to her normal self."

Roger nodded, slowly. "Was there anything else…that you found?"

"Other than severe bruising on her inner thighs and a few cuts and scrapes…no. She _did _appear to have a slight concussion…she has quite a bump in her head. We'd like to bring in officers to try and find out more about what happened. Try to see if we can figure out who her attacker was. Or if she'll tell us herself."

Roger nodded again. "Can I see her?"

"Well…at the moment, she's asleep. I suppose you can just go in there and sit with her for a little while. The nurses have done all the procedures needed, so no one would be bustling in and bothering you."

"Alright," Roger said. "When would the police come?"

"We'd probably bring them in tomorrow, when she's awake so she can file a report." She paused and stepped away from the door. "You can go inside now, if you'd like."

"Okay," Roger said. "Thank you." He stepped inside, and Dr. Moore closed the door quietly after him.

Slowly, Roger eased himself into a little lumpy stool and pulled it up so that he was by Mimi's side. She was indeed, asleep, and was now wearing a mint-green hospital gown. Roger saw her clothes folded atop the nightstand near other side of the bed. She had a hospital bracelet taped to her narrow wrist, which now rested limply across her stomach. Her brunette curls were spread on he pillow around her like a halo. She seemed peaceful-almost scarily so.

Only Mimi could still look beautiful in this situation, Roger thought.

Gingerly, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it softly.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you," he whispered, feeling the rims of his eyes fill with tears. "I'm I let you leave the Loft. I should never have let you go." He squeezed her hand gently. It was small and delicate compared to his.

_"Big-like my fathers,"_ he heard Mimi's voice say in his head. That was when he'd first met her. He felt himself smile, weakly. Her hands seemed small as ever, now.

***

Roger awoke the next morning with a crick in his neck. He could see through the window that it was still dark out, but the clock by the bed claimed it was five in the morning.

He groaned and stretched, placing a hand on his aching neck. He'd been at the hospital all night. He was still seated in the stool by Mimi's bed, and had folded his arms on top of the bed and rested his head there. He didn't think it was hospital policy to allow visitors to stay overnight. Maybe the doctor had let him out of sympathy, Roger thought to himself.

He glanced over at Mimi, who was still asleep.

His stomach was growling.

Quietly, Roger stood up and went down the hall to look for a vending machine. 

He found one at the end of the hall, and jammed a few quarters into it and pushed a few buttons at random. He watched a Three Musketeers Bar fall to the bottom of the machine with a thud. 

He took a bite of it, stuffed the rest of it in his pocket, and went into the men's room.

He stopped in front of the mirror, gazing at his tired expression. He looked like he'd been through hell. He supposed that in a way, he had.

He splashed some cold water on his face, and wandered back into Mimi's room, waiting for her to wake up.

When she finally did, she was still woozy from the painkillers that the doctors had given her.

Roger saw her left her arm slightly, and glanced up to see Mimi open her eyes, weakly. She turned her head and met his gaze, and didn't seem surprised to see him there, even though she had had no way of knowing he was in the room.

"Hi," she said, in a hoarse voice.

"Hey," he said gently. "Let me get you some water-you sound like you could use some." He stood up and walked over to the sink, filling a paper cup with cold water, then sat back down to hand it to her.

"Thanks." She took a long sip before placing it back onto the nightstand.

"How're you feeling?" he asked, quietly.

Mimi gave him an odd look as if to say _How__ the fuck do you think I'm feeling?!_ "Like shit," she said, flatly.

"The doctor said she had to give you a couple of stitches," Roger said, uneasily.

Mimi nodded. "Yeah. They basically knocked me out in order to do it."

Roger nodded, and was silent for a moment. "Mimi…" he said, quietly. "Who was it?"

"I…I don't know."

"Bullshit," Roger declared. "I can tell when you're lying. Who was it, Meems?"

"Just some guy at the club," Mimi mumbled. 

"From the _club_?!" Roger exploded. "Someone who works there?!"

"No…one of the dancer's boyfriends."

"What was his name?"

"I…don't remember."

"Mimi! How the fuck are the police supposed to help you if you can't even give _me_ a straight answer?!" Roger shouted, unable to help himself.

"I don't know! Stop yelling at me!" Mimi moaned, beginning to cry. "I don't want to answer any questions! I just want to forget about everything and go on with my life!" She held her head in her hands and cried.

Roger felt awful. He was silent for a moment. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to yell."

"Fuck you, Roger," Mimi sobbed, shaking uncontrollably.

"You don't think I feel horrible, Mimi?" Roger whispered. "You don't think I feel awful about not being there to protect you?"

Mimi didn't answer as tears slid down her face.

"Mimi," Roger whispered, pulling her towards him gently, embracing her in a hug. He felt her tears sock his shirt.

"I just want to die," Mimi whispered.

"Don't say that!" Roger said, angrily. "You did nothing wrong. It was that bastard who…attacked you…" he shook his head. "So God help me, if I ever come face to face with the guy who did this to you I will rip his head off." He sighed. "I told you you shouldn't have gone to work that day."

"Don't try to put the blame on me!" Mimi yelled. "What do you think, I came up to him and said 'Hey, big boy. Come over here and…rape me," she broke down again as the word _rape_ left her mouth. _"Oh God,"_ she moaned, covering her face with her hands.

"Of course it wasn't your fault, Meems. I wasn't trying to say it was. But I _knew_ something wasn't right at the club. That day when you came home and you were upset…had he been bothering you?"

"I…yes," Mimi whispered, not wanting to tell him what had went on that night.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you," Roger whispered.  "I could have stopped him."

Mimi sniffled. "It wasn't your fault. What's done is done."

"If only I could have been there a little earlier…"

"But you _weren't_, Roger. You weren't and it happened. You can't change the past," Mimi said, in a small, tired voice.

"I know. I still feel like it's my fault, though," Roger said, quietly. "I'm just sorry…sorry that it had to happen."

Mimi nodded. "Me too," she whispered, tears sliding down her face.

They sat in silence, and Roger just held her tightly in his arms.

***

A/N: Okay, this chapter would've been longer…except it was literally tearing my heart just to write this. As soon as I started to write the part where Mimi started to cry, I get this disgusting awful feeling in my chest. I have such a guilty conscience, lol. That happens whenever I write something that's sort of sad, but never as much as this story…ya know the song from School of Rock, 'Heal Me, I'm Heartsick'? Yeah, that's how I felt while writing this, lol. Hopefully the next chapter will be a little longer, and my heart will have stopped spazzing by then. Tell me what you think-review, por favor!!!


	7. Denial

"Meems," Roger whispered, gently nudging Mimi awake.

"Mmm," she mumbled, as she opened her eyes.

"Mimi, there's two police officers outside your door. They want you to file a report."

Mimi rubbed her swollen red eyes with the back of her fist and slowly propped herself up against a couple of pillows.

"Are you gonna be okay?" Roger asked her, nervously.

Mimi nodded. "I just wanna get this over with."

Roger squeezed her hand and got up to let the policemen in. He then sat back down in the school near Mimi's bed, followed by two male police officers; one blonde and stocky, the other brunette and lanky.

"Good morning, Miss Marquez," the blonde greeted Mimi, in a casual voice.

Mimi forced herself to smile and nod her head at them, in attempt to greet them.

"Miss Marquez, we'd like to get straight down to business here," the brunette said, fishing a clipboard and a pen from his belt. "We'd like you to file a report on the man who…attacked you. So we can try and figure out who it was that did this, and see if we can get an offense against him."

"Okay," Mimi said, quietly, glancing at Roger nervously.

"Alright. Tell me everything you can about what he looked like, what he was wearing, ethnic background, accent, height, weight, et cetera."

"He was tall," Mimi said, slowly, trying not to give too much away. She just wanted to forget this ever happened and move on with her life.

"How tall, Miss Marquez?"

"I don't know…five foot eight…maybe six," Mimi said, picking at her nails nervously.

"Alright. What about his face? Hair color, eye color?"

"Brown hair…brown eyes…Latino, I think. Or Greek. I don't know."

"Weight?"

"Um…hundred fifty…sixty…I can't really say."

Roger saw that Mimi became more uncomfortable with each question.

"And you have never met this person before? You don't recall ever seeing him anywhere?" the brunette asked.

"No. Never," Mimi lied.

"And this happened outside of The Cat Scratch Club?" the blonde asked her.

"Yes. In the alley in the back."

"Figures," Roger heard the brunette mutter under his breath and shot him a murderous look. "Asshole," he growled.

"Can you describe to us exactly what happened, Miss Marquez? And at what time?"

"It was around one in the morning…I think…," Mimi said, quietly. "I had just finished my shift and went out the backstage door. And I was walking and the guy grabbed me from behind."

"Did he say anything to you?"

"He…he said he liked me," Mimi said, purposely leaving out the larger details like the offering of the stash.

"And what did you say?"

"I told him to fuck off. And I kept walking."

"And that's when he attacked you from behind?"

Mimi nodded.

"What about clothing? Be specific as possible."

"I really don't remember…jeans…a black T-shirt. I wasn't really paying attention to what he was wearing."

The officer nodded, in understanding. "Alright," he said, putting the clipboard away and clicking the pen back into place. "First of all I think what we're going to do is question the employees at the Cat Scratch Club. And the manager. What was his name again?"

"It's…Terry. I don't know his last name," Mimi stammered. Shit. If they questioned Roxy…she was bound to figure it out. And then there'd be hell to pay…

"Do you really have to question them? I mean…it's…you know."

"Embarrassing?"

"…Yeah."

"This is all procedure, Miss. We need to fish around a bit if we want to get some answers."

Mimi nodded slowly, in defeat.

"Okay. I think that's basically all we needed to hear," the blonde said, standing to his feet.

"What are your names again?" Roger asked.

"I'm Officer Radley. He's Officer Branstein," the blonde said, pointing. "We'll call you if we find out anything. Okay?"

Mimi and Roger nodded.

Officer Branstein placed a reassuring hand on Mimi's shoulder. "We'll get this guy, Miss. And when we do, there'll be hell to pay."

"Okay, Mimi said, meekly.

The officer gave both her and Roger a sympathetic smile. "We'll stay in touch."

Roger nodded and watched the police officers exit the room.

***

"You got it, babe?" Roger asked Mimi as they slowly descended up the stairs towards the Loft. The nurses had released Mimi from the hospital earlier, seeing as the only real serious injury she had had only had required stitches. They told her to stay low, and just rest for a few days. Then they'd given her and Roger a date to come back for observation.

"I've got it," Mimi said, as she slowly made her way up each stair. She winced, slightly in pain as she did. She was sore, everywhere. She just wanted to curl up in bed or on the couch and sleep. Or die, even better.

"Do you need anything?" Roger asked Mimi as he guided her into the living room, where she curled up on the couch in a fetal position.

"No thanks. I just want to rest."

"Well, okay," Roger said, with uncertainty, as he started for the other room.

"Rog?"

"Yeah, Meems?"

"Could you just…sit here with me? Please?"

"Sure," Roger said softly, sitting down on the couch beside her.

"I'm so sorry. For all of this," Mimi said quietly, breaking their momentary silence.

"This isn't your fault, Mimi," Roger said, impatiently.

Mimi didn't answer him.

Not knowing exactly what he should do, Roger rubbed her arm gently.

A few seconds later, the phone rang.

"Yeah?" Roger said in a gruff voice, as he reached over for the phone.

"Is this Roger?"

"Who's this?"

"Terry…Mimi's manager. Is she there?"

"She's here," Roger said, through clenched teeth.

"Can I speak with her please?"

"She can't come to the phone right now."

"Oh. Well…can you ask her if she'd be able to work tonight? One of our girls called out and we were wondering if she…"

"Listen, Bud, Mimi's not coming back to your fucking club, now or _ever_!" Roger yelled into the phone.

"Excuse me?"

"If you're the manager, and you run the club so goddamn well, then tell me, how is it that one of your workers can get raped right outside the fucking back door?"

Terry was silent.

Roger slammed down the phone.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Mimi asked, angrily.

"You're not going back there, Meems. I knew that something wasn't right there, and I was right. You'll get a new job. But you're not going back to work there."

"Fuck you! You're not my father!" Mimi shouted. "I can work wherever the fuck I want!"

"Are you kidding me, Mimi? You were _raped_ last night."

"That has nothing to do with the club! In a few days I'll be able to work again. Give me the phone, I need to call Terry."

Roger held the phone out of her reach. "I said _no_, Mimi," Roger said firmly, raising his voice. The last time I regretted letting you go and you left anyway, this happened. I'm not letting anything else happen to you."

"You don't know what the hell you're talking about. Give me the fucking phone."

"Why? So you can go back to dancing for strange men like some kind of slut?!" Roger yelled, unable to control his temper.

"What did you call me?" Mimi said quietly, her teeth clenched.

"I wasn't calling you a slut directly," Roger mumbled, looking the other way.

They were both silent for a moment.

"Fuck you," Mimi whispered.

Roger suddenly felt guilty and reached over to caress her bruised cheek. "Meems, I didn't mean…"

"Shut up," Mimi snapped, cowering away from him. "Is that all I am to you? A slut?"

"You know I didn't mean that," Roger said quietly.

Mimi snorted in disgust. "If I want to work at the club, I can. I don't need your permission."

"Well then why don't you call Terry back and plead for your job back?" Roger asked in a cold, sarcastic voice.

"I hate you. Why do you have to make everything so difficult?" Mimi exclaimed, trying not to cry.

"Why do you refuse to admit that I'm right?" Roger asked.

Mimi sniffled. "Fuck this. I'm taking a shower." She quickly stood up and walked out of the room before Roger could say anything. She reached the bathroom and closed and locked the door before Roger could see her beginning to cry.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ Roger told himself again, angrily. _Couldn't have handled the situation any better, could you?_ _Always have to convince her that you're right, don't you?_

He wanted to go apologize to Mimi for being so hard on her. But it was true. He _didn't_ want to admit that he was wrong in having have said that to Terry. So he stayed put. And waited.


	8. Threat

Mimi sat on the toilet with the lid closed, her head resting in her hands. She sniffed and tried to hold back the tears that were taunting the corners of her eyes.

She hated Roger. She hated him, but she loved him just the same.

Why did everything have to be so hard?

Mimi wiped her eyes and picked her head up, looking around the bathroom. She could probably just kill herself right now, and no one would ever no or care. Suddenly, she became angry. Why did Roger leave his razor right on the edge of the sink? Just to tease her? Just to taunt her with the idea of sliding the razor along her wrist, just like April once did so long ago? And why were the bottles of Aspirin and AZT out? So she could take the whole bottle and close her eyes and never have to worry about Kyle or Terry or Roger or anything ever again?

She slid a hand into the pocket of her sweatpants, pulling out a small bag of powder, half empty; almost gone. But still effective.

Mimi sighed. Of course. The answer to everything. 

She leaned forward and turned on the sink faucet, so Roger wouldn't be able to hear anything going on behind the door. She closed her eyes and pressed a pinch of the powder, holding it up to her left nostril. Just as she was about to breathe it in, Roger started knocking on the door.

"Meems? Are you okay in there? I'm sorry about what I said. Come out? Please?"

Startled by the knocking, Mimi began to cough, and choke, causing the powder to fly back into the air.

Coughing, she fanned the small white particles away with her hand, and flushed the rest of the bag down the toilet. Fuck it. She could always get some more at the club.

"Mimi? Can I come in?"

Mimi stared at her reflection for a long time in the mirror before answering. "I'm coming out."

Slowly, she opened the door and slipped through it, coming face to face with Roger.

"Meems," he said softly, placing a hand on her hip.

Mimi moved away from him quickly. "I just want to go to bed," she said, quietly.

Roger nodded. "Okay."

Silently, they retreated to the bedroom, and Roger noticed as Mimi slid into bed that she was keeping her sweatpants and T-shirt on, underneath a sweater, which she rarely did.

"Goodnight," he said, as he reached over to turn out the light.

"Goodnight," she answered, softly.

***

"Anybody home?" a familiar voice called from the doorway the next morning. "I'm back!"

It was Mark, back from visiting his parents in Scarsdale.

Roger groaned as he sat up, and saw that Mimi was already awake, and was carefully beginning to slide out of bed.

"Hey, Meems," Mark greeted cheerfully as she came to the doorway.

Mimi gave him a small smile before slipping into the bathroom and closing the door.

Mark raised his eyebrows. "What's with her?"

Roger sighed and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. "Mark, I need to tell you something."

"Okay," Mark said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Shoot."

"Something happened…to Mimi…the other night at the club."

Mark was silent.

"She was raped," Roger said, quietly.

They were both silent for a moment.

"Are you sure?" Mark whispered.

Roger nodded. "I found her and took her to the hospital. They gave her a few stitches and she filed a report."

Mark let out a whoosh of air. "Christ," he said softly, shaking his head. "And they don't know who did it?"

"Mimi says she doesn't know his name, but I think she's lying," Roger said. "The police are going to go around questioning people at the club."

"Jesus," Mark breathed. "I'm sorry."

Roger smiled, weakly. "Not your fault." He was quiet for a moment. "How was Scarsdale?"

"Scarsdale? Fine. Who cares about Scarsdale, Rog? This is more important."

"I know…I'm sorry…I just wanted to switch to a more cheerful topic."

Mark gave him a sympathetic smile. "So how's she been?"

"She's…weird. I mean, I know that's expected, after what she's been through…but I feel like there's something she's not telling me. That she's hiding something."

Mark chewed his lip. "I hate to ask this…but she couldn't be…pregnant, could she?"

Roger shook his head. "I was worried about that too. I called the doctor this morning, and he reassured me that from the tests they ran, she's not."

"Do _you_ think you might know who it was?"

Roger shook his head. "No. The only person I know from the club his Terry, and I know it wasn't him." He sighed and drew his knees in towards his chest, rubbing his temples with his fingers. "Mimi really needs us to help her, Mark. She hasn't been saying it, but I can tell. She needs us to support her. We need to help her get through this."

"Of course," Mark said, nodding his head.

Roger grinned, weakly as he sat up in bed. "So…you want me to make breakfast or something?"

***

"I'm going to stick these bottles in the machine downstairs," Mark announced later that afternoon, lifting up a plastic bag filled with old water bottles.

Roger stared at him. "What?"

"So I can get money back in return."

"You're kidding, right?"

Mark shook his head. "Nope. Hey, it's a good way to get extra change. My parents introduced me to it," he grinned. "They have them in grocery stores and stuff, but I think they also have one outside the lobby downstairs. You wanna come?"

Roger shook his head. "Sounds like fun. I'll pass, though."

Mark shrugged. "Alright. Doesn't hurt me."

"I'll go," Mimi said, emerging from the other room.

Roger raised his eyebrows. "You sure, Meems?"

Mimi nodded. "Yeah. I need to get out. Even if it's just downstairs."

"Okay," Roger said slowly, being careful not to seem too overprotective. "You guys will just come back up after, right?"

Mark nodded.

"Okay," Roger said.

"We'll be back in a few minutes," Mark assured him, as he and Mimi slipped out the front door.

***

Mimi scuffed her worn out sneakers across the ground as Mark joyously emptied dozens of bottles and cans into the large green machine, which rattled obnoxiously with each deposit he made.

"I'm going over there for a bit," Mimi shouted over the noise, pointing towards down the hall. "I can't stand that noise."

"What?" Mark yelled.

"I'm going down there for a bit!"

"Oh. Okay!"

Mimi plugged her ears, hurrying down the hall and around the corner, until the loud rattling of coins and crushing bottles had faded.

Suddenly, a pair of hands grabbed her shoulders tightly, whipping her around.

"Hello again," Kyle growled, pushing her roughly against the wall so that she was facing him.

Mimi trembled. "Let go of me. Mark, someone, HELP ME!" she shouted, even though she knew he probably couldn't hear her over the noise.

Kyle dug his nails into the thin material of Mimi's T-shirt, pressing into her shoulder tightly. Mimi winced.

"Don't worry," Kyle laughed. "I'm not going to fuck you again. I never do the same whore twice."

"Fuck you," Mimi whispered, tearfully.

Kyle pounded his fist into the wall next to her head, and Mimi cried out, startled.

"The police have been questioning me at the club," he said through gritted teeth. "They're pretty suspicious. I think they know that I did it." He dug his arm into Mimi's ribs, making sure she couldn't squirm away. "Now, what I need for you to do is to tell the off. Tell them it wasn't me. That you made a mistake, and it was someone else who didn't work at the club." He wiped her tears away with his fingers. "Will you do that?"

"You're hurting me," Mimi whimpered, as his arm pressed harder against her ribcage, making it hard for her to breathe.

"Tell me you'll get the cops off my back," Kyle said, through clenched teeth, not seeming to care whether or not he was hurting her. "_Okay_?"

"Why are you doing this to me?" Mimi whispered. "Just leave me alone. _Please_."

He smirked. "Sure, I will. Just do what I told you. You wouldn't want your Roger to be hurt now, would you? Or that dorky little friend of his with the glasses? Just think of it as protecting your friends." He seemed to turn nice for a moment, stroking her cheek with his hand. Then just as quickly as his mood had changed for the better, he changed back again.

He glanced down at her middle. "Nothing going on in there, now?" he said, jabbing a finger hard into the middle of her stomach, causing her to cry out in pain. "You be sure to take care of that if there is, alright? If you need money for an abortion, don't be afraid to come to me," he grinned, wickedly. 

Mimi said nothing.

"I'm glad we had this talk," he sneered, finally loosening his grip on her and shoving her away from him. "And remember what I told you."

Mimi waited until he was no longer in view before she shakily got to her feet, and ran back down the hall, nearly smacking into Mark.

Mark was startled when he saw the state she was in. "Jesus Christ, Mimi, what the hell happened?" he exclaimed, seeing that she was crying.

"I just want to go back up to the Loft," she whispered. "_Now_. Please."

Mark took her hand in his, gently. "It was that guy, wasn't it, Mimi? What did he say to you? Did he hurt you?"

Mimi quickly shook her head. "Nothing happened. I just want to go home. Please, Mark," she begged.

"Okay," Mark said quickly, retrieving the bag of coins that he had gotten in exchange got recycling the bottles. He wrapped his other arm around Mimi's shoulders, protectively. "We're going home."


	9. Explosion

Brief Note: To those of you who are apparently uneasy with the semi-violence…I suggest either a strong cup of Joe, or you just not reading the story lol. Enjoy, anyhow.

"Don't say anything to Roger," Mimi begged as Mark as they went back up the steps to the Loft. Mark's arm was around Mimi's shaking shoulders, trying to calm her down.

"What the hell happened back there, Meems?" Mark asked quietly, stopping on the middle of the stairwell.

"Nothing. Nothing happened," she said refusing to look at him.

"Mimi, please," Mark pleaded, gripping her arm gently. She immediately flinched, and pulled her arm away from his grasp, wincing.

Mark shook his head. "Bullshit, nothing happened. Meems, if that guy came back here and threatened you, or hurt you, you need to tell the police."

"_NO_!" Mimi snapped, quickly. "Nothing happened. We don't need the police. Nothing happened." She kept repeating '_Nothing happened_.'

Mark sighed, and decided that he would first concentrate on getting Mimi back inside the apartment before trying to convince her to admit that something had happened downstairs.

"Don't say anything to Roger," Mimi said, not looking at Mark as he quickly fiddled with his keys in the door. "I don't want to upset him."

Mark glared at her. "Fine. I'll let _you_ tell him," he said, pushing the door open.

"You guys back already?" Roger called from the other room, as he walked in to greet them. "That was fast."

"Well, I didn't have as many bottles to recycle as I thought I did," Mark said, looking at Mimi.

"Told you doing that was a waste," Roger gave a small smile. "How much money _did_ you get?"

"About seven dollars," Mark murmured, sheepishly.

Roger smirked. He draped an arm gently around Mimi's neck. "How are you?" he asked, softly.

Mimi scuffled her shoes nervously across the floor. "I'm okay."

Roger pulled her closer to him and kissed her on the forehead. "It'll get better, baby."

Mimi smiled, weakly.

Mark shook his head in disgust, and walked into the other room.

"Where are you going?" Roger called out after him.

"Kitchen," came Mark's gruff reply. "I need a Heineken."

***

Roger entered the bedroom later that night, to find Mimi already asleep, curled up in a fetal position on her side. Her pillow was close to falling of the edge of the bed, and Roger quickly reached over with his hand and fixed it.

He wanted to wake her, wanted to comfort her. He knew she must be hurting. But despite the fact that the sheets were twisted around her knees and her pillow kept sliding out from beneath her head, she looked so peaceful. He would talk to her in the morning.

Quietly, he quickly slid into a pair of worn pajama pants, and slid his shirt over his head and slid beside her into the bed, wrapping his arms gently around her waist as his eyelids began to increase in mass, and finally he fell asleep.

***

Mimi woke up early the next morning to find Roger's arms wrapped tightly around her waist. Carefully, making sure not to wake him, she unraveled herself from his arms and walked over to the dresser to change, not noticing that Roger had stirred and had begun to watch her.

Quickly, she pulled on an old pair of sweatpants, not particularly caring how she looked this morning, and began to pull her T-shirt over her head to change her shirt.

"What's that?"

Mimi jumped, and quickly yanked the collar of her shirt back over her head.

"Jesus Christ, you could've warned me you were up," she mumbled.

"Meems, what is that?" Roger asked quietly, slowly getting out of bed.

"What's what?" Mimi asked, tiredly.

Roger walked over and tugged her shirt up so it was exposing her ribs. "_That_," he declared, pointing to a small ugly bruise just above her navel, and her ribs looked a little bruised too.

"Stop it!" Mimi snapped, pulling away from him.

"How did that happen?" he asked her, impatiently. "That wasn't there before."

"I…banged into  the corner of the dresser," she mumbled, folding her arms protectively across her chest.

"Bullshit," Roger said, quietly. "Did something happen when you went out with Mark yesterday?"

Mimi shook her head and began to walk past Roger, who grabbed her elbow to pull her back. "_Answer_ me, damn it!"

"Let go of me!" she shouted at him, yanking her arm from his grasp. "Just leave me the fuck alone," she hissed, hurrying out of the room.

Roger stood there, silently, startled by Mimi's explosion.

"What happened?" Mark whispered sleepily from the doorway. "I heard shouting."

"Mark, what happened yesterday?" Roger asked.

"She didn't say anything to you?"

Roger shook his head, impatiently.

"She walked off by herself while I was putting the bottles the machine and I_"

"You let her go off on her own?" Roger interrupted.

Mark stared at him. "Roger, she's not a child. She's twenty."

Roger sighed. "What happened?"

"Well, a few moments later she came running back down the hall, and she was near tears. She looked pretty shaken up. I think whoever…you know…"

"I know."

"…I think he snuck up on her or something. Or threatened her. She was really upset."

"Why didn't you tell me yesterday?"

"I figured she would tell you herself. I told her to."

Roger shook his head. Mimi didn't tell him anything these days. "I swear to God, I'll bury that fucker alive once I found out who he is."

"But that's just it, Rog-if he knew where she lived, don't you think it's probably because she _knows_ him from the club or somewhere, and knows his name?"

"I don't know…" Roger said, slowly. "I mean he could've figured out where she lived some other way…"

"Roger. You need to talk to her," Mark said.

"You don't think I'm _trying_? She won't even let me near her! I put my hand on her arm and she fucking exploded at me!"

"You need to make her listen to you, Roger. It's obvious that she's hiding something from you."

Roger sighed. "Fine. I'll try again now."

Mark watched as he walked past him and into the kitchen.

_"GODAMMNIT!!" _he heard Roger yell, a few moments later.

"What happened?" Mark exclaimed, rushing quickly into the kitchen.

Roger slammed his fist against the refrigerator and tore off a note in which Mimi had written in her loopy script, with purple pen;

_Rog__-_

_Went to take a walk.__ Needed some time to myself. Be back later._

"What the fuck does she think this is, a game?" Roger exclaimed.

"Calm down," Mark said, gripping his shoulder tightly. "You'll talk to her when she comes back."

Roger snorted in disgust and sat down at the barstool by the kitchen counter, helpless. 

Mark dragged up a stool and joined him. Together they stared blankly at the wall, refusing to meet each other's eyes. 

And they waited.

***

A/N: Oh, I _know_ that those of you naughty M/R fans are just _dying_ for a hot love scene in the kitchen on the barstools! Haha, just kidding. Don't worry, she'll be back. Reviews are the best thing since Daphne playing with a 'Limbo-Elmo' doll!


	10. Busted

"You looking for something?" a hoarse voice asked as Mimi quickly turned the corner and stepped into an alley.

She turned. It was her old dealer. The man. She didn't know his first name, and he had never bothered to tell her.

"Well, long time no see," he grinned. "It's Maria, right?"

"Mimi," she corrected him. "Look, I need something. Anything. I'm just so fucking messed up right now." She fished a few crumpled bills out of her coat pocket. "I don't have that much money."

"Easy, easy. Calm down. You look like you've been through hell." He glanced down at her. "If you don't mind my saying so."

"I'm not having the best week," Mimi said, gruffly. She shifted her feet, impatiently. "So what could about fifteen dollars get me?"

"Don't worry about it. This one's on the house," he grinned, producing a small doggie bag from his pocket. "It's not much, but it'll do the job. You pay me later. You're an old customer. I trust you."

Mimi was hesitant before taking the bag from him and stuffing it into her pocket. "Thanks."

"Anytime, babe," he smiled. "You got a place to stay tonight? I could hook you up somewhere, if not."

Mimi sighed, and shook her head. "No thanks."

"You sure?"

"She nodded."

The man shrugged. "Alright. But you know where to find me." He waved and shoved his hands into his jean pockets and walked down the alley, and disappeared.

Mimi waited until he was gone before she took the bag out of her pocket and shook it, trying to see how much was left. She groaned. She should've known. It was less than half full. Oh well. It'd have to do. She walked back the way she had came, holding the bag tightly in her hand.

***

"Do you think we should call the police?" Mark asked, coming up behind Roger. Inserted in the corner of his mouth was a straw, from which he slurped a day old cup of diet Pepsi.

"I don't know," Roger sighed. "I mean, it's not the late, right? What time is it?"

Mark looked at his watch. "It's a quarter after six."

"Shit," Roger groaned. "Maybe I should just go out and look for her myself?"

"Where would you look?" Mark asked. "She could be anywhere."

"She could be with that bastard," Roger growled, clenching his fists. "Whatever the fuck his name is."

"You still don't know?" Mark asked.

"No. Mimi hasn't told me anything besides the fact that he hangs around the club."

"Well, hopefully that's all the information the police will need to know in order to catch this guy."

"Maybe." He paused. "Maybe I should look for her. If that piece of shit was at our building before, then he could still be around here. I want to find her before he does."

"Do you want me to come with you?" Mark asked.

"No. Stay here just in case she comes back." He slid his leather jacket on and started for the door.

Right before he could place his hand on the knob, the door opened, revealing Mimi.

"Jesus," Roger breathed a sigh of relief. "You scared me half to death, Mimi. Where the fuck were you?"

Mimi giggled and shrugged her shoulders. "That's for me to know and you to find out."

"What?" he looked at Mark, who glanced back at him, with an equally confused look.

"Mimi, why'd you run off like that? I was worried shitless."

"You worry too much," Mimi slurred, walking wobbly over to the couch, and balled up her coat and tossed it in that direction. It missed, and landed in a heap on the floor.

"Oh shit," she said, looking at her coat. "Oh well."

Roger stared at her. "Are you drunk?"

"Don't be silly," Mimi grinned, and coughed. "I haven't been anywhere near the drugstore."

"You're not making any sense. _Mimi_." He placed his hands on either side of her head, trying to get her to look at him.

"_Listen_ to me."

"Get your hands off me," she snapped, swatting his hands away. She walked away from him aimlessly and tripped over her heels, and would've fallen if Mark hadn't of been there to grab her back.

"She's drunk," Roger said, simply. "And if not, I don't know what to think. Will you get me a cold washcloth or something, Mark?"

"Sure," Mark said, disappearing into the bathroom.

"Mimi? Meems? Can you hear me? What did you drink?" Roger asked, holding her arm to steady her.

"I didn't drink nothing," she murmured, leaning against him lazily.

Roger sighed. "Can you make it to the bedroom?"

"It's too early to sleep," she mumbled.

"If not, I'm going to carry you."

Mimi mumbled something inaudible, and Roger wrapped her arm around his neck and picked her up, carrying her into the bedroom, where he laid her down, gently.

She squinted at him. "Are we going to bed?"

"Mark, can you get in here with that washcloth?" Roger yelled.

Mimi coughed. "Bless me," she said, grinning weakly.

Mark returned with the washcloth, which Roger placed gently on Mimi's forehead, pushing her brunette curls back behind her ears. "I don't think she'll be able to tell me where she was, at least until the morning. When she's sobered up a bit," Roger sighed, as she tried to wriggle away from his hand, that was pressed firmly on her head. "Hold still," he told her.

"It's fucking _wet_," she said, tiredly. "And we're inside. I think."

"Right. We are. We're gonna try going to sleep now, alright?" Roger said to her. She grumbled in reply, and he reached forward to pull off her boots, and looked up at Mark as he tossed them onto the wooden floor. "I think I can take it from here. Thanks."

Mark nodded. "Alright. If you need anything, just let me know."

"Night," Roger called after him. He helped Mimi into a pair of flannel pajamas and a T-shirt, and pulled back the covers for her. She snuggled up beneath the blanket, and closed her eyes, rolling on her side,

Roger shook his head, and changed into a pair of pajamas, similar to the ones Mimi was wearing, and then slid into the bed next to her. He saw that his T-shirt that she was wearing, was obviously too big for her, and had slid down her shoulder. He reached forward and pulled it back up, revealing her lower arm, and the inside of her elbow. Only then did he see the track marks.


	11. We're Okay

Roger was silent for a moment. He stared blankly at the bruises along Mimi's inner arm, waiting to see if they would fade, and find that it was only his imagination. But there was no change.

Quietly, he stood up and walked out of the room, leaving Mimi alone in the bedroom.

In the kitchen, he rustled through one of the cabinets until he found what he was looking for; a pack of cigarettes that he rarely ever used unless he was extremely stressed out. And this was one of those occasions.

He used the stove to light the cigarette, and took a swift drag of it, walking out onto the fire escape as he did so. He stared out at the streets below him. The neon lights, the occasional drunk or drug dealer squandering about the sidewalk. Back when he was a junkie, he used to wander around aimlessly like that too, at night.

He inhaled the cigarette smoke, holding it in his lungs, wanting to hurt his lungs if not himself. He got so wrapped up in his thinking and confusion that he began to cough, violently, taking in the smoke too forcefully.

"Rog?" a voice said from behind him.

Roger coughed. "Mark," he croaked, neglecting to hide the cigarette from his friend's view.

Mark looked at it. "You smoke?"

"Not really," he gasped.

Mark drew his eyebrows together. "What's wrong?" He knew Roger too well.

"I was in the bedroom with Mimi," Roger said, catching his breath. He shivered. It was unusually chilly. "There were track marks on her arm."

Mark didn't say anything at first. "Are you sure it's from…"

"Yeah. I know what they look like. I used to have them up and down my arms. Like these fucking blue and purple polka dot sleeves," he said, with forced laughter.

Mark couldn't think of anything to say to comfort him. Instead, he lifted his glasses off his nose and wiped the lens on the bottom of his shirt.

"She lied to me," Roger said, leaning on the railing. "About lots of things. I must be a fucking moron to have not noticed anything before. She always tells me that everything is fine." His voice began to choke up, and he became embarrassed. "She's really fucked up, though," he whispered.

Mark put a hand on his shoulder. He was already uneasy enough, with this subject matter, and not having anything to say to make the situation any better was making him even more uncomfortable.

"How long do you think this has been going on for?" Roger asked him, wiping his eyes, casually, pretending that was scratching them. "I mean, if she's lying to me about this, then who knows what else she's been lying to me about. And she wonders how she ended up being raped at the club," he spat, bitterly. "And it's not like this is something that just came about. It was like her whole upper arm, Mark."

"Does she know that you know?" Mark asked, slowly.

Roger snorted. "I think she's too wasted to notice anything right now."

Mark pressed his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. "Are you going to talk to her?"

"Of course I'm going to talk to her. And I'm gonna _make_ her tell me the truth about everything, about what happened."

"Alright," Mark said, quietly. "You should." He was surprised that Roger was reacting so eerily calm. He would've thought that he would've reacted crazily, and violently. That's something he would've done long ago. But Roger had changed, now.

"Are you going to go back to bed?" Mark asked him.

Roger sighed. "I don't know. I think I'm going to stay out here a little while longer. I'm fine. You can go back to your room if you want."

Mark paused. "Are you sure?"

Roger nodded, slowly. "I'm alright."

"Okay. Goodnight," Mark said, weakly.

Roger nodded after him. He inhaled the smoke deeply. It was hard not to do it without coughing. It'd been a while since he'd had one of these damn things.

Mimi awoke the next morning to the unpleasant sound of her own head throbbing, painfully.

"Fuck," she muttered, slowly sitting up. It'd been a while since she'd had a migraine. She rubbed her head with her hand, and slowly made her way to the bathroom.

On her way to the kitchen, she found Roger sitting in the living room.

"Hi," she said. She was tying the straps of her peach-colored silk bathrobe around her waist

He didn't look at her.

Mimi made a weird face and went into the kitchen for a glass of water. When she returned, Roger was still sitting on the couch, and it didn't seem like he'd changed his position.

She tried again. "Are you okay?"

This time, he looked up at her. She was surprised to find that his eyes were bloodshot, and his face looked paler than it usually was. It didn't look like he'd gotten much sleep.

"Yeah," he said, in a funny voice. "I'm fine." He paused. "You sleep okay?"

"Yeah. I've got a killer headache though."

"You were pretty messed up last night," he said.

"Yeah…I stopped at the Life Café. I had a little too much to drink."

Roger waited for her to say something more. She didn't.

"They must hurt," he said.

"What?"

"Those bruises on your arm."

Mimi turned pale. "Yeah…I slipped in the bathroom the other day." Uneasily, she turned to an old framed photograph of her and Roger, cuddled together in a booth at the Life Café on his birthday, and fingered the texture of the frame, slowly. A sharp shattering sound made her jump. She looked up and saw that the glass that Roger had been holding in his hand was now in the middle of the room, in pieces. "Did you just throw that?" she said.

"You know, they looked to me a little like track marks," he said, ignoring her.

Mimi was silent.

"You were pretty messed up last night. What'd you have to drink."

"I…I don't remember. I was too out of it." She got up and began to pick up some of the larger pieces of glass, placing them carefully in the wastebasket.

"Don't lie to me again, Mimi," he said, coldly.

Mimi bit her lip, sharply. "What do you mean?" she asked, weakly.

"I wasn't born yesterday, Meems. You were high last night. And those _are_ track marks on your arms. I used to shoot up, you know. I know what they look like."

Mimi looked at the floor, refusing to meet his eye.

"Why did you lie to me?" he asked her.

She was silent.

"Does this have anything to do with the guy who raped you?"

Mimi winced at how he used the word _rape_ so easily.

"_Talk to me, Mimi_," he exclaimed, rising up suddenly and placing his hands on her shoulders, tightly.

"I don't know," she whispered, her voice beginning to show evidence that she was about to cry.

Roger was disgusted. Where did _she_ get off being the victim here? _He_ was the one who had been fucking lied to. He couldn't help it. He began to shake her, violently, his hands grasping her shoulders tightly. "_Don't lie to me again_," he yelled.

"Stop it!" she yelped, and he did, finally letting her go and letting out a groan of disgust. She was trembling, frightened by Roger's sudden violent impulse.

"Tell me the truth," Roger said, coldly.

Mimi shook her head and rubbed her shoulder, slowly. "There's nothing…"

"Do you call this nothing?" Roger demanded, reaching forward and pulling up her sleeve to reveal a trail of multicolored bruises.

She said nothing.

"How can you do this to me, Mimi?" he asked, hoarsely. "And behind my back?"

"I…I don't know. I've been trying, Roger. I just slipped."

"_I just slipped_," Roger mimicked. "Those are _multiple_ marks, Mimi. I wasn't born yesterday. This has been going on for a while, hasn't it?"

"What do you want me to say?" Mimi spat, bitterly. "YES. It has been going on for a while, Roger. Maybe if you weren't so oblivious, you would've noticed by now! "

"Oblivious?!" Roger exploded. "You call calling you at the club to see if you're okay and asking you each night if you're okay _OBLIVIOUS_!?" He was still kneeling on the with her, his hand still holding onto her sleeve. "Where do you come off being the guilty party, here?" he growled. "I'm the one who's been lied to. Who knows how many times. Don't you _dare_ try to make me responsible for this. That's bullshit, that I haven't been concerned about you, and you know it. Admit it. _You're_ responsible." He tightened his grip. "_Admit it._"

Mimi, who was shaking hard, on the verge of tears, did not answer.

With a groan of disgust, he shoved her away from him.

Not expecting this action, Mimi tripped over the ties on her robe and fell over, landing hard on her side. Her knee was underneath her at an odd angle, and she winced as she struggled to get back up. "Roger," she whispered, meekly. "I'm sorry."

Roger glared at her, hating himself for softening a bit.

She limped awkwardly over to him and placed her cold hands on his arm, tightly. "Please," she croaked. "I've been wanting to tell you. Someone just had some stuff at the club one night…I just tried it once…and then I couldn't help myself."

Roger shook his head and refused to look at her.

"I want to stop. I did it once, and I can do it again. I want to be better," she said, unable to help from crying. "I don't want to disappoint you. I want you to be happy. I'm sorry for everything," she sobbed. "I want things to be how they were before."

"Please," she begged, when he didn't say anything. "Talk to me. I need you."

Roger kept his stony stance, but felt himself break when Mimi pressed her head against his chest, crying, softly. He felt struck by guilt. He ran his fingers through her curly hair, and rubbed her shoulders, gently. "It's okay," he said quietly, brushing his thumb against her wet cheek. "I'm sorry too."

Then there was a longer period of silence, with the two of them pressed tightly against each other as if they were stuck that way.

"Meems," Roger finally cleared his throat and tipped her head up with his fingers. "I'm going to need you to tell me about what happened that night."

"I…okay," she finally shuddered, defeated.

"I need you to tell me _everything_."

Silently, she nodded and pressed her face against his sweater, feeling the material tickle  her nose.

"You'll be alright," Roger said softly, hugging her. "You'll see. Everything will turn out alright."

"I know," she whispered, hugging him back.

Come up to meet you,  
Tell you I'm sorry,  
You don't know how lovely you are.  
  
I had to find you,  
Tell you I need you,  
Tell you I set you apart.  
  
Tell me your secrets,  
And ask me your questions,  
Oh, let's go back to the start.  
  
Runnin' in circles,  
Comin' up tails,  
Heads are a science apart.  
  
Nobody said it was easy,  
It's such a shame for us to part.  
Nobody said it was easy,  
No one ever said it would be this hard.  
Oh, take me back to the start.

Song Credit: 'The Scientist'-Coldplay

Author's Note: Aw that makes my bowels ache L. Anyhoo, sorry I haven't updated this in a while. I'll try add the next part in soon. Review, in the meanwhile! Ciao.


	12. Relief

_THE NEXT MORNING_

"Are you ready?" Roger asked Mimi the next morning. They were going to the police office, to give them more information which Mimi had revealed to Roger the night before.

Mimi stared at her coffee mug, wide-eyed, and nodded.

Roger patted her arm, gently. "Mark, can you give me the keys?" Roger yelled into the other room.

"Coming!" Mark yelled back.

"He's letting me drive his car," Roger explained to Mimi.

"He has a car?"

"It's my mom's," Mark said, entering the kitchen. "I think it was a pity-present." He tossed the keys to Roger.

"Pity for what?" Roger asked him, catching them.

"I don't know." He grinned, sheepishly. "For being her son, I guess."

Roger rolled his eyes. "You poor thing."

Mark glanced out the window. "It's starting to pour."

"It is?" Roger looked for himself. "Fuck."

"Take my umbrella," Mark offered. "It's in the car."

Roger laughed. "You're prepared for anything, aren't you?"

Mark nodded.

"We'll be back in an hour or two," Roger told him, taking Mimi's hand.

"Alright," Mark said. "Have fun."

Roger rolled his eyes. "Right," he said, as he and Mimi went out the door.

They walked downstairs, for the elevator had been broken down for about a month, and walked a block down to the parking lot, clutching each other's hands, tightly.

Roger opened the car door and pulled an umbrella out of the front seat. "Can you stick this in the trunk?" he asked Mimi. She nodded and walked over to the rear of the car.

Roger fiddled with the lock on the door, and suddenly, out of nowhere, he felt a strong force collide into his shoulder, knocking him off his feet.

"What-the," he sputtered, and looked up to see an unrecognizable man hovering over him. Instantly, he knew it was Kyle. He heard Mimi scream his name. Dazed, he glanced up at the stranger, the rain penetrating his eyes.

"Well, you're Roger then, I assume," Kyle laughed, kicking him quickly in the side.

"Please, Kyle…_stop_," Mimi pleaded with him, desperately as Roger winced.

Kyle turned to face Mimi. "I told you to call off the cops," he said coldly, pointing his finger between her eyes. "Now Terry knows, and I'm out of a job. And Roxy won't speak to me. Was it so hard just to throw the fucking cops off?" he yelled at her. "I told you there'd be a price to pay."

While he was talking, Roger slowly stood to his feet. This was the guy who had been causing him and Mimi so much pain for the past few days. This was the prick who'd nearly ruined what they had together.

Before he realized what he was doing, Roger landed a blow to the back of Kyle's head. Kyle whipped around, infuriated, and punched Roger in the jaw, throwing him off. Mimi screamed at him and tried to pull him off, and finally, Kyle violently flung her off of him, throwing her to the ground.

Out of the corner of his eye, Roger saw Mimi fall, elbows first. He didn't see her try to get back up. "_YOU SICK FUCKING SON OF A BITCH," _he screamed slamming his fist into Kyle's back. "_YOU SHOULD BE IN JAIL, YOU SICK FUCK."_

"This is all your girlfriend's fault," Kyle grunted, trying to take another swipe at Roger. "If she wasn't such a whore…" He was cut off by Roger's fist colliding into his mouth.

"DON'T YOU _EVER_ FUCKING TOUCH HER AGAIN! DO YOU HEAR ME?!" he screamed, grabbing Kyle by the collar. To his relief, he saw Mimi begin to stir, slowly..

"What the fuck is going on here?" another stranger's voice demanded. Then, "Jesus Christ. What the hell's going on."

"Call the police," Roger shouted at the man. "This guy's a criminal."

"Kiss my ass," Kyle spat at him, but the guy was already rushing to the payphone. A few moments later, he returned, with another man. "Alright. I called the police. They're on their way down here."

"Goddamn it," Kyle yelled, trying to throw Roger off of him.

"Whoa, now," one of the two men said quickly, and the two of them ran over to help hold him down. Once they had Kyle under control, Roger rushed over to Mimi's side.

"Meems?" he whispered. "Can you hear me?"

He felt for her pulse and shook her, gently.

Mimi slowly opened her eyes, wincing as Roger slowly helped her sit up. "Are you alright?"

"I think so," Mimi whispered. "Where's Kyle?"

Roger pointed. "They're holding him down. The police'll be here any minute."

Mimi smiled, weakly. "Good."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Roger said quickly, holding his hand up in front of her face. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"I can't tell…you keep moving them." Mimi said, following Roger's shaky hand with her eyes.

Roger smiled, and hugged her tightly to his chest. "I snapped when I realized it was him," he murmured. "I want to fucking kill him." He looked down. "Meems, your knee's bleeding."

"It is?" she looked at her knee.

"Here." He quickly grabbed a few tissues from Mark's car, and came back and pressed a wad of them tightly against her knee. "Does it hurt?"

"No…it's fine. I just feel kind of dizzy. Like I might pass out," she smiled, weakly, and Roger noticed she was having a hard time keeping her balance.

"Just sit down," he instructed her, as he heard the wail of police sirens begin to come closer. "That's the police," he said, stupidly. "Meems?" he said, shaking her shoulder, gently, trying not to let her pass out.

"Okay, what's happening?" one of the officers asked, as he got out of the car. He looked at Kyle. "This man attack you?"

Roger nodded. He would explain the rest later. "Yeah. I'm fine. I think my girlfriend hit her head or something, though."

"Let me see." The officer crouched down in front of Mimi and shone a light into her eyes. Mimi stared back, blankly. "She might have a concussion," the officer said. "But I don't think it's anything too serious. We'll get this guy downtown, and you two to a hospital?"

"Yeah." Roger helped Mimi to her feet. "C'mon, Meems." He ignored Kyle's deathly glare at him from the opposite police car. He felt like a huge weight was being lifted off his shoulders as the police car drove off.

Maybe now, finally, things would start to settle down.

Author's Note: Yeah, that kinda sucked. I feel like I'm about to pass out myself. My head hurts. On account of the pain I went through to finish this, review lol. Go!


	13. See Her Smile

"Roger Davis and Mimi Marquez?" a short nurse called, sticking her head inside the waiting room.

"C'mon," Roger nudged Mimi, and slowly helped her to her feet and held her hand tightly. Her walk had a shaky manner to it.

"Follow me," the nurse said, leading them into a room with painfully all-white furniture, and with Roger's help, Mimi boosted herself onto the examination table and swung her feet, impatiently.

"Doctor Galloway should be in here shortly," the nurse assured them, giving them a quick smile before she left the room.

Roger rubbed his jaw, which was still sore and swollen, and tore at the paper on the examination table, impatiently.

Finally the doctor came in, clad in a uniform and a red pencil tucked behind her ear.

"Hello, Mister and Misses Davis," the nurse said, reading the names from her clipboard. Roger didn't bother to correct her. "So what happened? You two get into a fight or something?"

"You could say that," Roger said.

Dr. Galloway nodded. "It looks like you got banged up a bit."

"I think I'm okay…I think Mimi might have a concussion or something," Roger told her.

Dr. Galloway chewed her lip and pulled out a flashlight, shining the light into Mimi's eyes. "Can you tell me what your name is, hon?" she asked.

"Mimi," Mimi said, slowly.

"When's your birthday?"

"February nineteenth," Mimi said, automatically.

The doctor felt the back of Mimi's head and asked, "Did you hit your head immediately when you fell?"

Mimi frowned. "I don't know."

"She fell on her knees, first," Roger told her. "And then she hit her head."

"Any blackouts?" Dr. Galloway asked.

Mimi blinked and looked toward Roger.

"She was out for about a minute when she first fell. And then in the car ride here she kind of zoned out for a couple of seconds."

The doctor quickly snapped her fingers in front of Mimi's face, and Mimi squinted her eyes. "Just testing your reflexes," she explained, taking Mimi's wrist to feel her pulse.  "I don't think it's anything too serious. Everything you're describing is natural, if she has a concussion. I don't think we'd need to hold her overnight. If there's still a problem later on, you should probably check in just to make sure everything's alright." She put a finger to Mimi's cheek, on top of a fading bruise. "Is this from when you fell?"

"No…that was from…another time," Mimi said, glancing at Roger.

Dr. Galloway chuckled. "You kids can't catch a break, can you?"

"Do you need an ice pack or something?" Roger asked Mimi, while they were lying on the bed. They'd returned from the doctor a little while ago, after answering some of the police's questions. Kyle was currently being held in jail until further notice.

"No. I'm okay," Mimi told him.

"Okay. I'm gonna get one for myself, then. My jaw's killing me." He disappeared into the kitchen for an icepack, and then tossed it on the bed, took off his shirt and threw it onto the floor, then laid down on the bed beside Mimi, wrapping his arm around her waist.

"You know," Mimi said, pressing her cheek against Roger's bare shoulder. "I've been thinking. I think I'm gonna quit working at the club."

"Really?" Roger said, relieved.

Mimi smiled and nodded.

He smiled back. "Good." He leaned in and kissed her gently on the lips.

"Does your face hurt?" she asked, placing her hand gently on what was now developing into a bruise on Roger's jawline.

He shook his head. "Nah. I can take it."

"I'm sorry that had to happen. I didn't know he'd come after you."

Roger frowned. "Don't be sorry," he said softly, sliding his hand under Mimi's T-shirt and stroking her bare stomach.

Mimi closed her eyes contently and reached out for his hand. "Is Mark home yet?"

"No. He's out. With a girl."

Mimi opened her eyes. "A girl?"

"Are you surprised he's out on a date, or dating a girl?" Roger grinned, tickling her stomach.

Mimi laughed and pushed his hands away. "Neither. It's just been a while since he's dated."

"Yeah. Well, he could use a new relationship," Roger grinned. His eyes were beginning to droop.

"Are you asleep?" Mimi asked, suddenly.

"Would I be talking if I were sleeping?"

"You could be talking in your sleep," Mimi said, placing her chin on his chest.

Roger chuckled and cupped her chin in his hand. "Don't worry. I'm awake. Don't know for how much longer, though."

"Yeah, well. It's been a long day," Mimi said, holding back a yawn.

Roger nodded in agreement. "Wanna call it a night?"

"Mmm hmm."

"Do you want me to get the covers?"

"Nah. It's too hot."

"Okay," he said, reaching over for the lamp he kept on the nightstand. "Goodnight, baby," he whispered, kissing her on the forehead.

Mimi smiled. "Night, Roger."

Roger turned out the light, feeling a new sense of relief wash over him. It'd been a while since he'd seen Mimi truly happy.

Author's Note: Awwww I love sappiness., hehe. You dirty people probably thought they were gonna do the nasty. Shakes head Reviews are almost as fun as Daphne whispering naughty things into my ear! And if you were wondering, yes, the title of this chapter was ganked from a Tick Tick Boom song. Ciaoooooo!


	14. Back to Normal

"Mimi?"

Mimi turned to face her boss, Terry. She had stopped by the club to get some of her things, and Roger was waiting out front.

"Terry?"

"What're you doing back here? I thought you quit."

"I came to get some stuff out of my locker," Mimi said slowly, tossing a handful of laundry into a garbage bag.

"Oh." Terry was silent for a moment. "God, Mimi, I'm sorry for all of this."

Mimi shrugged. "It isn't your fault."

"I knew that Kyle guy was a creep, but I still allowed Roxy to sneak him back here. I could've prevented all this."

Mimi shook her head. "This was just a reality check for me, Terry. I knew one day I'd eventually stop working here."

Terry sighed. "Well, I know we'll all miss you here."

Mimi smiled. "Thanks. Maybe I'll still see you around sometime?"

He nodded. "Sure." He hugged her, briefly. "See you around, Sprout." 'Sprout' was the name Mimi had been dubbed by the other dancers, as she was the shortest one there.

Mimi groaned, and shoved at him, playfully. "Bye Terry."

Terry left, and Mimi shoved the rest of her things in her bag, when she heard footsteps approaching. It was Roxy.

"Oh, Jesus, Mimi…" Roxy breathed.

"Hi…," Mimi said slowly.

"Oh my God, Mimi…I'm sorry I didn't try to get in touch with you sooner. When I heard about what happened, you don't know how horrible I felt."

Mimi made a face. "Everyone knows about it?"

"Oh yeah. Some of the guys even grabbed Kyle back by the alley and took him out," Roxy said, with a smirk. "That bastard. I knew he had a creepy interest for you. He would always stare at you during your numbers. I never thought he'd do anything like this, though…" she paused. "Anyway. I'm just so sorry. As soon as I heard what happened, I broke up with him."

"I know," Mimi said.

"You do?"

"Yeah. He told me. He came after me and Roger to try and make me call the cops off his case."

"Oh Jeez. He's such a fucking basket-case," Roxy sighed. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"Well…he jumped Roger. Then I tried to stop him and he threw me off. I just kind of banged my head and fucked up my knee. I'm fine, though."

Roxy shook her head. "Well at least he didn't do anything worse."

"I don't think there's anything worse than rape," Mimi said, with forced laughter.

"Oh, honey," Roxy hugged her. "I'm so sorry. If there's anything I can do, you just let me know."

Mimi smiled. "Thanks. It's not your fault, though."

"Mimi?" Roger stuck his head into the locker room. "You done in there?"

"Jesus, Roger, you can't come in here!" Mimi exclaimed.

Roger blushed. "Oops. Sorry. You ready, though? This place gives off a bad vibe." He glanced at Roxy. "No offense."

"None taken," Roxy said.

"Yeah, I'm ready," Mimi said.

Roxy gave her another hug. "Call me, okay, kiddo?" she said.

Mimi grinned. "Sure."

Roxy turned to Roger. "You take good care of her for us, you hear? She's our baby Sprout."

"Roxy," Mimi groaned.

Roger laughed. "Sprout?"

Mimi rolled her eyes. "Forget it." She latched onto Roger's arm. "Ready to go?"

"Yep." Roger waved slowly to Roxy. "Bye."

"Bye, my little chickadees."

"Willkkomein," Mark greeted the two of them as they entered the room.

"Hey, Mark," Roger said, plopping down on the couch opposite him. "How was your date?"

Mark made a face. "It didn't go over so well."

Roger frowned. "That sucks. What was the problem?"

"She had a boyfriend."

Mimi burst out laughing.

"It's not funny," Mark mumbled, hiding a smile.

"Yeah, _Sprout_," Roger grinned.

Mimi stopped laughing. "You ever call me that again and you're dead."

"Who's Sprout?" Mark asked, confused.

Roger grinned, mischievously and headed down the hall to the bedroom. "Sorry, Sprout."

"Shut the fuck up," Mimi shouted, running after him.

Mark heard the sound of them rustling around on the bed, and giggling. Then a loud _thump_ onto the floor, and an 'Ow,' from Roger.

Mark rolled his eyes. Things were back to normal.

Author's Note: Yeah I think about one more chapter and this story's done. Maybe two. Never fear, though. You could always catch up with my other one, 'How Do You Leave the Past Behind?' :-D


	15. Always

Author's Note: It's been groovy. Thanks for the reviews, guys J

TWO WEEKS LATER

"We need to get the AC going. It's too fucking hot in here," Roger said. He looked back at Mimi, who was curled up on the bed. "Aren't you hot?"

"Not really. I'm okay."

Roger sighed. "You're crazy. It's like a sauna in here. I think I'm going to drown in my sweat." He smirked. "Mark's in his room, sleeping like a baby. The heat's not bothering you. Is it just me?"

"I think so. You have a weird body temperature."

Roger laughed and crawled onto the bed, gathering her into his arms. "I love you," he grinned, sheepishly, nuzzling his head against her cheek.

Mimi smiled at him. "You're going to choke me."

Roger loosened his grip and lay back with her on their pillows. "Tomorrow is labor day."

Mimi yawned. "Really?"

"Yep."

She giggled. "Happy labor day."

"You too," he smiled at her. "Hey, your face is just about all cleared up," he said, referring to the bruises on her jaw and cheek.

She lifted her hand up to touch her face. "Are they?"

"Yeah. You can't really see the bruises anymore."

"That's good. I was getting tired of having to make up excuses and tell people I walked into the wall," she smiled, weakly.

Roger slid his hand into hers. "It's been a rough week."

"It has."

"We can get past this, though. Kyle's in jail now."

"I know," Mimi sighed.

"I found a stash hidden behind the toilet the other day," Roger said, slowly.

Mimi's eyes widened. "Roger, I wasn't…I threw everything out the other day."

"I believe you."

"You do?" she whispered.

"Yeah. I trust you, Meems. I know you've been really making an effort now."

She reached forward and ran her fingers lightly through his hair. "Thank you," she said softly.

Roger kissed her hand gently, and the two of them clung to each other, wrapped in each other's embraces.

"Are you sure you're okay doing this now?" Roger asked her as they slowly began to undress.

Mimi nodded, and slowly they began, her hand's pressed against his back, and his face muffled by her curly hair spread out on the pillow. It was the first time they'd both made love since that night.

And as Roger lay awake later that night, listening to car alarms as he watched Mimi sleep, finally, he truly felt a reassurance deep within him. Things would turn out alright.

In the end, they always did.

A/N: Yaaaaaaaaaaay Claps Thanks for keeping up with this story, dudes. One final review? Pretty please?

P.S, be sure to read my other story, 'How do you Leave the Past Behind?' Later!


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